


Resurrection, part 1

by Seabirdsong



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Drama & Romance, Drunk Alistair, F/M, Feels, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Guilt, Love, Sexual Content, Smut, Warden Alistair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-03-12 05:19:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3345044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seabirdsong/pseuds/Seabirdsong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after the Hero of Ferelden fled the scene of a discovered betrayal by Morrigan and Alistair, Eva hears rumors of Alistair's utter ruin and life of disgrace in the town of Crestwood. Full of anger and without a real plan, she returns to pick up the pieces of the man she once loved, and learn the truth of the scene that shattered their life together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the first fanfic I've ever written. Please be kind!

"It's a shame about Alistair," the conversation began. It snapped Eva out of her thoughts and back into the dark, smelly tavern. Her face lingered over the mug of warm ale, helping to drain the weariness from her legs. Journey after journey had left her with exhaustion that was bone deep. She turned her head to glance down the bar at the two men seated at the corner.

"Well everyone should know better than to try to pull one over on old Sam," the dirty blonde man on the left said. He gripped his mug with gnarled, twisted hands. "I'm surprised that boy survived the beating."

The man took a shaky drink.

"It's certainly a shame. How does a man go from hero of the lands to town fool in just a couple years?"

"Well, that's what getting too deep in the drink will do to ya. Takes all your better judgment and dignity," the darker, younger man on the right replied. "He must be running from something fierce. I hear those Grey Wardens are plagued by all sorts of ghosts."

"I guess if I was dreamin' of demons and darkness every night I might try to drown it all out too," the old man said. "Still, though, Crestwood already had its share of fools. So I guess he fits right in."

Eva felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She hadn't heard hide nor hair about Alistair since she raced her horse away from him some two years ago. Crestwood. That was where she had gone at first, too. The deep familiar ache of years worth of wresting with memories made itself known in her stomach. It was happening less and less, but she didn't know if it would ever go away. It'd only been the last several months that she had finally been able to go a full day without thinking of him and of their time together. She didn't even know how long it had been since even hearing anyone utter his name. Part of working herself to the bone, crisscrossing the country side on whatever mercenary errands she could find, was in order to exhaust her brain and her heart enough that they might finally be blessedly silent about the man she had once loved.

She almost spoke up, telling them that they only had the dreams during a blight. The only dreams she'd been having were of a different kind of ghost. She bit her tongue.

"I heard it was that lass," the bartender added. "She broke him, she did."

Eva lowered her face again, and considered getting up to find a table at the back of the tavern, where it was quiet, and darker. The last thing she wanted was to be recognized. But she was also torn between wanting to hear their conversation, and wanting to run far, far away. Out of this town, out of these lands. Away from any place where she might unexpectedly hear his name. That lass. They must have been referring to Morrigan. So they were no longer together.

"Say…." One of the men said. There was a moment of heavy silence. Without looking Eva felt their eyes on her.

"That little biddy down there looks an awful lot like that very lass."

Reluctantly, she met their wide, staring eyes.

"Nope. Not me," she said gruffly.

"Sure it is!" He laughed heartily, surprised. "You are! Imagine that! You're the Hero of Ferelden. I saw your likeness on all the posters."

"Well I'm not _that_ lass," she said. Not the one who broke Alistair.

The men started nudging each other and chuckling.

"What do you think the chances of that are? The very hero right here in our midst," the older man joked. "Hey lassie, what'd you do to that poor boy?"

Fury rose along her spine. She felt herself standing.

"What did _I_ do to him?" she asked, hearing her own voice growing loud and shrill, but unable to rein herself in.

"What did I do to _HIM!?_ " Heart racing, she chugged the last bit of her ale and slammed down the mug. She suddenly found that her legs were propelling her across the room, out the door, down the narrow walkway between the houses and horse carts.

She didn't stop until she reached the edge of town several blocks away, and stood staring out a dry brown field surrounded by a haze of rolling hills and a purplish sky full of stars. Her heart continued to race, and her blood rushed in her ears. She was so angry she could have hit something. What was he telling people? That SHE was the one who had betrayed HIM? She was not the one caught in the arms of a secret lover!

But still, a drunken fool? That was certainly not what she was expecting to hear.

It had been a shock to her, when Morrigan suggested that Alistair give her a child. A child which would house the soul of an Old God, and would ensure that neither of them had to die to slay the archdemon, she had said. It would help Eva and Alistair stay together she had said. She’d promised Alistair that she would disappear, and that he would never know the fate of that child.

It was a hard choice, but they had both known it wasn't really a choice at all. Either they were both going to die, or they were both going to live. Separation was not an option.

So Morrigan and Alistair spent the night together.

And that same night Eva rode her horse so hard she almost broke the poor creature. Feeling terrible for inflicting her anguish onto her loyal steed, she led him to a barn full of hay and there they both slept.

She slept fitfully, with dreams of staring deep into the eyes of the demon that wanted her and her love dead, and their homelands scorched. She woke in the morning with a strange peace, knowing that they had done what they needed to do to prevent that happening.

She had put the night out of her mind. And when Alistair found her that afternoon he held her more tightly than ever before. She remembered his shaky breath in her ear, his face digging into her neck.

And so that was the end of it for a while. Morrigan disappeared as she promised, and they didn't talk about what had happened. It faded into the past, and Eva and Alistair enjoyed an ever deepening bliss that was beyond anything she could have imagined.

Until three years down the road, Morrigan appeared, with a well-mannered little boy at her side, who smiled a familiar smile that fired up a sadness in Eva that she was not prepared for. Three years of pretending that night had never happened destroyed, with one little innocent boy's smile.

But Alistair loved her. He had spent all their time together showing her at every opportunity. So she pushed her unrest down as deep as she could.

And Morrigan was different. During the blight, she had always taken every opportunity to tell Alistair how little she thought of him. It seemed inconceivable that Morrigan could have changed her feelings so dramatically.

But then, Eva knew the magic that was in Alistair's touch. The tenderness and the fire that was in his kisses. Would it have been the same with Morrigan?

She always assumed it would not have been. That it would have been a transaction. A cold, dutiful, impersonal exchange. And that was the most she had ever thought about it.

Morrigan had no more barbs or teasing for Alistair though. She was kinder, softer.

But things were okay. They dined and caught up, as a group. Alistair held Eva's hand tightly under the table, and didn't let her go for even a moment. He seemed to know she needed the contact. She felt guilty for her thoughts, for her… Jealousy. For the little pangs of… something, something powerful that welled up from deep within her when she looked at the cherubic face of the sweet little boy. She couldn't have stopped those feelings no matter how hard she tried.

So she swallowed them.

It was two days later that she came upon Alistair and Morrigan behind the herbalist's hut. Standing among the fragrant lavender, and they were in each other's arms. It was just an embrace, but for the moment that Eva stood in the open watching them, neither pulled away. She was mere steps away and could have been discovered with just a slight flick of their eyes, but they were so entranced they didn't look up or hear her. The seconds she waited for them to end the embrace seemed to last forever. When it didn't end, she took a step back so she was just hidden by the wall of the hut.

"She can never know about last May, then," morrigan had said.

"Of course not. Or about the Crystal Caves," Alistair had responded, striking ice into her heart.

She heard clothing shift. Steps in the grass. And suddenly she was face to face with both of them. She felt frozen in place, her heart cold, her ears unable to hear anything over the buzzing, rushing of her own drumming pulse.

Alistair's face fell and his skin instantly turned ashen. It was the last time she would see that beloved face. Full of shock and fear. He'd been found out. Discovered.

What came next was all a blur. She had turned away from them. Voices behind her, rising and falling. Arguing with each other. A bantering cadence that thrust her memory back to a time of darkspawn and campfires. She remembered her feet falling clumsily over pockmarked land. She remembered the horse, the same horse that she had ridden so hard before. And then wind hitting her warm, wet face so hard it stung. A succession of wine and ale drenched days, sleepwalking through one after the other. Expensive beds in strange towns. Until she ran out of coin and had to camp, or steal a few hours sleep in an empty barn.

Alistair either didn't follow her, or couldn't. She had seen nor heard nothing more of him. Part of her couldn't believe he could do such a thing. He had loved her. They had loved each other. They had clung passionately to each other for more than three years. But she had heard what she heard. There had been meetings between Alistair and Morrigan. Secrets.

The days whirred into weeks and then months, and seasons passed.

Then one morning she awoke, hungover and sore. Her clothes were hanging off of her diminished frame. Birds were singing loudly, piercing through her aching head, and the sun was quickly drying up the layer of dew that coated herself and her campsite. It was the first time in she didn't know how long that her mind seemed… present. She sat up and faced the gently flowing stream that she had camped by. Picking up her things, she followed the stream until she found a calm pool, and then she walked into the water, clothes and all.

The water was frigid, but fresh and clear. She immersed herself, and the coldness helped ease the pounding of her head and pushed out all of her jumbled emotions and thoughts. She floated there in the pond for some time, letting her arms and legs go numb, and she experienced a moment of unexpected peace. A peace she clung to, even when the cold in her limbs turned from numbness to pain. She heard nothing but the rush of the water, saw nothing but the blinding sun above her. Everything inside her was washed away, overtaken.

Until suddenly the water exploded around her, and big arms scooped her up and pulled her out of the pool.

Randall, from the nearby farm, thought she was a floating body, a girl who had drowned.

Despite her protestations, he carried her to his home and had his wife strip her of her wet clothing.

They put her to bed again, stoked a fire in her room, and when she woke she ate hot stew and fresh bread. She gave them a wrong name. They watched her with quiet, suspicious eyes, but they extended unending kindness and generosity. And when she felt strong again a few weeks later she started helping out on the farm. It became clear that they barely had enough on the meager farm to sustain even just the two of them, yet they had shared what they had with her. She spent a few weeks hunting and foraging for supplies, and she refilled their stores. And then she gave them sincere thanks, and bid them farewell.

She looked back at them as they waved, gave a final nod, and rode her horse off into a new life.

She was a new person now. She forgot that she was a Grey Warden. She tried to forget that she had ever been so intertwined with another human being, sharing bodies and souls. She went through the motions every day, helped others, and did what she needed to sustain herself. But a piece of her was gone. This was her new life.

Crestwood. A drunken, town fool. It was inconceivable.

"Now I know what town to avoid", was her first thought. But all the thoughts that followed continued to tug her mind back toward that rickety little town. She knew that town well. She had friends there. But Alistair had been completely unfamiliar with it when they had visited during the blight. He knew no one. Yet there he apparently lived, in disgrace. Alone.

He should have expected that Morrigan would abandon him. Morrigan might have been a formidable ally in matters of business and adventure, but her personal skills certainly left much to be desired. But what could you expect, being raised alone in the woods by a crazy, unpredictable witch of a mother? Eva wondered what had become of the boy. Did he no longer see his father?

Morrigan had been careful not to introduce Alistair to Kieran as his father, but perhaps that had changed once they were free to pursue an open relationship with each other.

The more she thought of what could have occurred between them to leave Alistair where he was now, the more Eva was curious about the truth of the matter. She could speculate all she wanted but she didn't really know. In fact, she had been speculating wildly since the very beginning. She knew she had caught them, and she knew what she had heard them say to each other. That is all I need to know, she had told herself, and it is enough. More than enough. But still she continued to fill in other gaps with her imagination, with what she figured probably happened. But she had no way to really know.

When Eva accepted the job that would take her to Crestwood, she told herself it wasn't for Alistair. It had been two years now since they parted, after all. She had moved on, as much as she thought herself capable. He would have as well, she figured. But what those men at the bar had said… "that lass sure did a number on him."

She was sure that Morrigan had soothed whatever regrets Alistair may have had. But then she apparently left too. Morrigan didn't seem like the relationship-having type. But there Eva was, speculating again. Maybe Morrigan had left Alistair as quickly as she had reappeared. Maybe Morrigan recovered her old disdain for Alistair once they no longer had the thrill of their secret? Their night together hadn't changed who he was at his core after all. He was still the joking, childlike, good-natured man he was before. A man that Morrigan had openly disliked.

No. No more speculating, she admonished herself. Making up these stories to make herself feel justified, vindicated, solved nothing. Her truth was simple. Alistair and Morrigan had a secret relationship and she had caught them. But she didn't know the details. Not really.

She could probably get in and out of the town and complete her mission without even seeing him. The mission was easy: deliver a few letters, and strong arm some coin out of the stablehand's son, who had taken to gambling and not paying his debts. It would be a breeze. In, and out. Maybe she would catch a glimpse of him. Maybe she could get the story from some of her friends. Maybe she would find herself overwhelmed and would race out of town just as she had done before.

She was sure this was a terrible idea, but once the curiosity had gotten hold of her, it had refused to relinquish its grip. Instead it burned and smoldered.

She pointed her horse toward the old Ferelden town, and was on her way.

The journey was shorter than she hoped it would be, even with her attempts to delay the arrival. She had to fight the urge to turn around and abandon her job numerous times. Her stomach buzzed and roiled with nerves and fear, but she forced herself to press on.

It was evening when she finally entered the boundaries of Crestwood. The town had clearly seen some hard times in the last year. The first hut she came to, the one which had housed Old lady Willa for over 20 years, now stood empty. An unfamiliar young lad banged at glowing metals in front of the smith’s shop. The spire of the chantry rose tall over the town center, and candles flickered in the windows.

Eva's stomach rumbled as she walked her horse past a house that emitted the scent of freshly baked bread.

She considered her options. Looking about at the weathered huts, she saw no other possibilities for a hot meal other than the local tavern. The market tables were emptied and several unfamiliar people milled about the town center gardens.

Loud patrons spilled out of the tavern, audibly drunk and raucous. The hanging lantern beside the door illuminated the faces of two older gentlemen she didn't recognize. For a town which she had once visited so often, she seemed now only a stranger.

Tying up her horse, she slipped into the tavern.

She felt her heart rate quicken as she glanced around the dark hall. If he was the town drunk, this is where he should be.

But none of the faces were that of her former love. Milicent, the barmaid, had aged well and laughed heartily as she spoke with two travelers dressed in Adventurer gear. Couples nuzzled and men boasted of their exploits and slapped each other's backs.

She exhaled in relief, knowing that she would not be faced with Alistair so soon. She would get some food into her belly, and then decide what to do from there.

Sliding onto a stool at the bar, the bartender, Gilfoy, turned and slid a mug her way. His face slowly transformed as recognition lit up his features.

"Eva!" he said.

She held up a finger to her lips. He dampened his enthusiasm with a nod, understanding her meaning.

"I mean, greetings fair lass. Ale or wine for you tonight?" he asked with a smirk.

"Let us go with wine tonight, please. And a bowl of whatever you got in the kitchens. I've had a long journey." Eva answered.

"Of course. What brings you to our little town in the sticks? It has been quite a while. There are a few folks here who will be very happy to see your face." He said.

Luckily the patrons of the bar were in such good spirits that almost none of them glanced her way.

"I have a few errands to run here. I probably won't stay long. But it's nice to see some familiar faces. Though I'd like to keep my visit as quiet as possible." She said while Gilfoy filled her mug with a deep red wine. She took a drink, grateful for the warmth that spread throughout her empty stomach.

"Well, good luck with that. Let me fetch you a bowl from the kitchens. You should pop back and say hello to Sally if you get a moment."

Eva nodded. She let her hair fall over her face, hoping not to attract the attention of any of the other patrons. She was glad to be wearing her tattered coat, as she fit right in with the townsfolk. Though she knew once a few of them caught a look at her face that the secret would be out. That was always the way of it.

Gilfoy returned from the kitchens with a bowl filled with a generous helping of mutton stew and a chunk of bread. She dug into the meal, eating with a hunger that surprised her. She realized as she raised the spoon to her mouth that her hands were shaking. The long trip plus her ravaged nerves seemed to have eaten up all her energy stores.

Eva cleaned her bowl, and finished a second glass of the wine. She nodded to Gilfoy and left two coins on the counter.

Slipping quietly through the crowd, she found her way to the entrance of the kitchens. There was Sally, as buxom and jovial as Eva remembered, kneading bread on the cluttered counter in the middle of the stone room while singing to herself. A large cauldron bubbled over the fire.

"Hello Sally," Eva said over the woman's shoulder. Startled, Sally jumped and faced her.

"Oh, for the love of the Maker!" Sally exclaimed. Her annoyance turned into a big smile once she saw Eva's face, and Eva was swept up into a warm, strong hug.

"Oh my dear! Look at you, completely wasted away!" she said looking her over. "Keeping to the shadows are you?"

"Yes, a bit. But I can't tell you how nice it is to see that some things are exactly the way I remember them," Eva said, feeling instantly comforted. She had known Sally since she was a girl, but Sally herself never seemed to age.

"Sit, sit, here, please, have a drink," Sally poured them both a goblet of wine from a nearby bottle. "Tell me, what brings you to Crestwood? And why hasn't it brought you here sooner? Are you here to finally fetch Alistair?"

At the mention of his name, Eva's breath caught in her throat. Sally noticed and her face froze.

"Oh dear, sore subject is it?"

Eva didn't know what to say.

"Well, it's a bit of a sore subject for a few folks around town as well. He had himself a good beating not long ago from old Sam. Healed up okay, surprisingly, considering he don't take care of himself. Makes a right nuisance of himself sometimes, too. Other times he just..."

Sally trailed off, her voice getting quiet. "Whatever happened between you two really did a number on the poor boy. He has been beyond help. It's pitiful really."

"What happened between us? You mean Morrigan?" Eva asked, throat suddenly feeling very dry.

"Morrigan?" Sally laughed. "Honey, it's not Morrigan's name that he calls out in his sleep."

They were silent a moment. Eva took a drink of her wine. It was sweet and strong.

"Sleep here often, does he?" Eva asked.

"Unfortunately, yes. He has slept there, " she nodded to a spot on the floor by the back door.

"And over there by the hearth. And in the barn. And the alley. I can't even count how many times Gilfoy and I had to drag him in from the cold so the lad didn't catch his death sleeping in the snow," Sally said. "No sweetie, it's not Morrigan that troubles the lad."

Eva looked down into her goblet, which to her surprise had already gone empty, and Sally quickly moved to refill it. Her fourth cup. Eva's head was swimming, her stomach roiling. She wasn't sure if it was all the wine, or the news. It suddenly occurred to her that he was here, somewhere. Maybe not in the building, but he was close by at this very moment.

"Were they together, after… after I left?"

"I don't know about that. I never saw her," Sally said.

That figured. He probably came here after. Actually, she wasn't sure what would bring him here.

"Do you know why he came to Crestwood to begin with?"

"No. He was already deep in the drink by the time he made it here, about… oh, a year or so ago I guess. Right at the end of the winter. No one even recognized him," Sally said. "He was on foot, by himself. Drunk as a skunk right from the start."

Eva nodded, wondering what he had been doing. The lands around the town were especially harsh during the winter, with little game to hunt, or places to shelter. If he had made it here on foot, that would have been one difficult journey that time of year.

"You look tired," Sally said. "Lets talk more in the morning, when you’re more rested."

Sally pulled a key out of her apron and offered it to Eva.

"The upstairs room is free. Take it, and get a good night's sleep. Though you might want to take your wine out to the hall to finish it first. There will be a familiar face in the back corner in his usual spot, though you may have to roll him over to see it," Sally said, then she stood and walked back over to her ball of dough and gave it a slap.

"Be kind to him, dear. He needs it. Maker knows no one else around here is."

Eva felt like she was sleepwalking as she slowly stood, took her glass and reentered the tavern hall. It was less full now, and her eyes were able to see into the dark corners of the back.

Gilfoy met her eyes and nodded toward a slumped over figure barely visible in the darkest part of the hall.

He had been there the whole time, while she ate. While she drank her wine.

She walked silently past the intoxicated stragglers, feeling lightheaded and a little drunk herself.

The noise of the room faded into nothing as she took the last few steps toward the sleeping figure. He was face down on the table arms folded around his head. The familiar gold of his hair was shaggy and unkempt.

Silently, she sat at his table, putting herself right across from him.

His hands lay just inches away. There was dirt caked in his ragged fingernails, and dried blood smeared on the sleeve of his tunic. His shoulders rose and fell with his breath. She was shocked at how sharp and bony they were. Eva felt a sudden surge of emotion. The ache in her stomach intensified, making her whole body feel as heavy as lead. Her eyes stung as tears threatened to emerge. Tears of anger, of emotions long suppressed.

Suddenly Alistair's head shot up and he looked right at her.

"There you are demon. Are you finally going to take me?" he asked. His bloodshot eyes were wet and sunken into purple sockets. His face was pale, gaunt. His cheekbones stood out sharply. Shocked, Eva didn't answer.

"Heelllooo?" he asked mockingly. "My you've done a good job this time, demon. If fact, you keep up those appearances and you'll never get rid of me."

His voice cracked.

"Haha!" he laughed, delirious, "You have been haunting me all this time, but now it is my turn to haunt you!" he said as his head fell back down onto the table. It landed with a thunk. "You'll never get rid of me." He mumbled into the wood.

"Alistair," Eva said. She placed a shaky hand on his arm. It was hot, as though he was feverish.

His head lolled back upright. He looked down at Eva's hand on his arm and just stared at it.

"Alistair?" Eva said again, her voice a whisper, shaking with the effort of holding back a sob.

"No, no, no. Nevermind. I don't want this. Go away," he said, pulling his arm out of her reach, his voice sounding anguished and far away.

"No no no no no no no," he groaned sadly, laying his forehead back onto the table as he rolled his head from side to side.

All of the anger Eva had been holding onto was drained out of her.

This man was broken. This man she had loved so intensely, this man who held her, killed for her, gave himself to her. Betrayed her.

Suddenly she was afraid. She realized she had never given him a chance to explain. But her reaction… she almost had no choice in it. It just happened. She saw what she saw, she heard what she heard, and her feet, her heart carried her away. She had been broken too. This had been her, just several months ago.

She drank down the last of her wine and stood on legs of jelly. Taking several clumsy steps she walked around the table and sat herself beside him. She felt consumed by an unexpected tenderness. For the whole journey she had imagined herself roaring up to him and unleashing her fury. Or admonishing him for his stupidity. This deep compassion she was feeling instead, was not in any way how she thought she would be reacting.

This man, this weak, sick, broken looking man had once been so strong. He had made her laugh until her stomach and cheeks hurt. And he had taken her to heights of pleasure she never imagined were possible. He had held onto her like he was falling off the earth and she was the only thing that was anchoring him. The memories of their time, their three years flooded her mind, and hot tears poured unbidden from her eyes. She had spent the past year figuring the aching she felt was just permanent. She had never loved like that before, and never been hurt like that before. It was all brand new to her, and she had begun to assume that the hurt from it was just going to continue along with her until the end of her days. That pain brought itself up to the surface as she sat there. She felt both lost in her cavernous mind and memories, and in shock from the real, physical reminder that was slumped over before her.

Thanks to the help of the ale on the preoccupied patrons, the two of them went unnoticed in their dark corner. And thanks to her wine in her own belly, she no longer cared that she was sitting in a public hall crying.

He continued shaking his head as his face lay upon the table. She could hear him still whispering, "no no no no no no."

Eva didn't know what to do now that she was beside him, and overcome with such unexpected emotions. She feared any words she dare speak would come out a sob or a hiccup. She feared laying her hand upon him again, as she might get lost under the surge of old affections. She struggled to determine whether she should try to hold onto her anger. But all it took was conjuring the vision of Alistair and Morrigan in their hidden embrace to stiffen her back again. She also feared she wasn't strong enough for this yet. That this was too soon. She had been wronged, hadn't she? She should be angry. She always hated it when women were so quick to forgive their philandering partners.

But this man beside her, this shell of a man. He had paid for it. He had suffered. He was still suffering.

"Eva," he whispered at last, eyes closed, and he fell silent and still.

She sat there, silently. Looking at the grains of wood in the table, what little of it she could see in the low light. This was his spot, Sally had said. This was where he spent many a night, in the same state that he was in now. What a sad life.

Again his head came up and stared into the space before him where Eva had just been sitting.

Slowly he turned his head to look at her now beside him.

"Alistair," Eva said again, hot tears streaming anew.

He looked for a long moment into her face, like he was trying to steady himself amidst a rocking ship. A spark of lucid recognition flickered in the haze of his amber eyes.

"Eva," he whispered again, his voice shaking.

Eva wiped her face, and tried to compose herself. She took some breaths to stifle the weeping. Alistair's eyes never left her, but they seemed so glazed, she didn't know what he could have been thinking. Or feeling. He had seemed utterly delirious the moment before, but he seemed to be grasping for reality now.

"This can't be real," he said. "The desire demon has visited me in my dreams, but she has never seemed so…. You." he said.

"Have I died?" he asked, breaking his gaze and looking around the room. It was now mostly empty. Gilfoy and Sally had made quick work of clearing out the hall. Now they stood together behind the bar, casting glances in their direction. Milicent was ushering out the last few resisting bodies.

Alistair looked back at Eva and suddenly he broke. His whole body crumpled forward into a sob, with a quiet wail that sounded sadder than anything Eva had ever heard before.

She put her hand on his arm, and then moved up to his shoulder. And his back. And like a magnet her body moved toward him, needing to comfort him. Needing to soothe the pain she heard cracking in his voice, that was striking at the depths of her soul. Alistair smelled of mud and smoke, and being so close now she saw grime on his scalp, in his ears. He had completely stopped caring for himself. She wondered when the last time was that he had bathed. Or been sober. Or been held.

The last of the patrons were gone now. Sally and Gilfoy nodded at her as they slipped into the kitchens, leaving Eva and Alistair alone in the empty tavern hall.

Alistair's sobs shook his body, and his wails grew louder.

"Alistair, listen to me. We are going to get up okay? We are going to clean you up a bit," Eva said, suddenly feeling a purpose. She would find a place to wash away the grime, and take him up to the room Sally gave her for the night and let him sleep somewhere warm and comfortable. And she would figure out her next steps from there.

Those next steps were nerve-wracking and elusive. Obviously there was no going back to the way things were. Alistair probably required a bit of recovery. And the fact of the betrayal, and all the pain and heartbreak she herself had suffered wasn't just going to disappear either.

Eva pulled at his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. Pushing her body into his she hoisted him into an upright position. She was shocked at how thin he was, and how easy it was to support his weight. His body continued to shake and quiver as she pulled him from the stool and urged him into taking a few steps. As they approached the door to the outside, she felt his eyes on her once again.

Looking up into his thin and weary face was difficult. He looked so different, yet was still her Alistair underneath the grime and drunkenness. He still had the long, noble nose and strong chin. The deepset eyes that used to always seem to be smiling, were now just purple pits of bottomless despair.

Their eyes remained locked as they made their way to the door. Eva could count each one of Alistair's ribs through his tunic. Step by step they lumbered out of the tavern and into the moonlit night. Though it had been years since she last visited Crestwood, she knew exactly where she was going. Silently, under the silver moon, she walked Alistair through the whispering fields and to a pool in the nearby stream, not unlike that one from which she herself had been rescued.

Once at the edge of the still pool, she let Alistair rest on his own weight and pulled herself out from under his arm.

They were both wordless, watching each other as though in a dream.

Eva began pulling gently at Alistair's clothes, removing the tattered, smelly rags from his thin frame. She stripped him completely, then removed her own clothes down to her undergarments. Thankfully it was close to Summer solstice and the breeze held a comforting warmth.

Eva picked up Alistair's hand, which clasped hers back with a fervor that seemed more than what his diminished limbs should be capable, and she led him down into the still, cool pool. He obeyed silently, stepped where she pointed and stopped once they reached the center of the chest deep water.

Alistair's back and chest were covered in several new scars that she didn't remember. Including one just below his shoulder which had obviously gone untreated. The ridge of disturbed flesh was pink and showed where a gash had been opened and left to harden without proper care. It was a wonder he had not gotten a serious infection.

Eva cupped handfuls of water and dropped them over his shoulders and neck. She rubbed away the grime and threaded her fingers through his matted hair. Working her way around to face him, she saw that he had his eyes closed. She herself was still trying to reconcile the events of the last hour in her mind. She had only just arrived in town, and this was the last thing she thought she'd be doing, especially so quickly.

Tentatively, she brought up a hand to touch a new scar under his eye, and to drip water onto his dirty face. She dropped handfuls on his head, and gently pulled him down so that he was completely submerged except for his face. Only then did his eyes open, but still he did not speak. She cradled his head as she cleaned off his scalp, his ears. His lip had a partially healed cut. He closed his eyes again and let her have her way.

She wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but was afraid to break the spell. She also didn't know how coherent he was behind those foggy eyes. She was also afraid that her own anger and feelings of betrayal would bubble back up. She pressed them down. She didn't want to think about that now.

His body had changed so, but she still recognized it. He had lost a bit of muscle mass and gained many new wounds.

When she felt she had done as good a job as could be done, she stood before him and looked at his gaunt face. He looked the picture of absolute suffering. How could her Alistair had let himself degrade to such a degree? What would have happened if she had not come? What may still happen? A night of care and a bath may not wash away the last two year's worth of bad habits. She still had no idea who she was going to encounter in the morning, once the alcohol was out of his system and the cold light of day shone upon them both.

Eva noticed that they had both begun to shiver.

Pulling him by the hand out of the water, she realized she did not want to put his tattered rags back onto his newly cleaned body, but there was nothing else there for him to wear.

"Sit here. I am just going to wash your clothes. You'll have to wear them back wet, but we'll figure something out once we get to the room."

Alistair did as he was told, and Eva took his clothes to the water for a scrub.

When she was finished, she dressed him in the wet rags, and they remained wordless for the short, slow walk back to the Inn.

=========

Her eyes opened to the face of a ghost. Pale and wan, but with burning amber eyes, Alistair was watching her from only feet away as she slept on the Inn's cot in the upstairs room.

"Are you real?" Alistair asked, as he reached a hand forward to caress her cheek. His touch was soft and light, but his hand was quivering.

"You feel real," he said.

Eva sat up in the bed.

Alistair was still shirtless, the sun through window illuminating the sad state of his damaged skin. There was still the broad frame with strong shoulders, the large, capable looking hands, the long, graceful neck and strong jaw. But the scars and withered muscles were painful to look at. He held himself as though he were unbearably heavy, the weariness in his bones visible.

"It is me. I am here. I came on a job, and I heard… Well I heard that you were not doing well," she said, wiping the sleep out of her eyes.

"You left me," Alistair said looking up with red rimmed eyes. "What you saw that day… Morrigan… it was not right. I never got to apologize. I wanted so badly to apologize."

Almost instantly Eva felt her defenses go up. She sat up stiffly, and braced herself for whatever else he had to say.

"Eva. It is true that there were secrets. That things between Morrigan and I changed after that night… we had an experience together that affected both of us, whether we wanted it to or not. Not the sex."

She winced at the word.

"That was… nothing."

He paused and took a shaky breath. "It was nothing compared to what you and I had," his voice was damaged, raspy. "But when you make a child, and that child comes into the world…. Things just change. I hated the thought of him not having a father. Of not knowing where he was, how he was doing. The way Morrigan talked when she proposed the idea it seemed that, the fate of that child could have been… very bad. I hated that. I needed to know," he said.  
"But I loved you. I always loved you. I never loved her. It wasn't like we were…" Alistair stopped to cough, a deep rasping cough.

"I'm sorry. When we met those times, it was just to talk. That's all it ever was. To talk about Kieran. We never…" Alistair trailed off. He lowered his head down and rested it on the bed.

"I lied to you. I did. I asked her to keep it quiet. I don't know why I did that," he said. "I never deserved you. I deserve you even less now. I am…" he banged his head on the wooden bedframe.

"I am pathetic. I am a fool. I have been waiting for the Maker to take me."

Eva lowered a hand to his hair, which felt in need of another wash. A proper bath, with soap.

"But I am still here. Why am I still here!?" Alistair cried, croaking. "I never wanted to you see me like this!"

Without thinking, Eva climbed down out of her bed and to Alistair's side. Wrapping her arms around him, she felt him melt into her, all bones and angles. He coughed some more and the spasm wracked his entire body.

His arms encircled her and he held her so tight she could barely catch a breath. The ferocity she felt in herself as she clung back to him almost frightened her. It couldn't be this easy. Letting him back in after how much she had been hurt. After how much they had both been hurt. But the things he had said. How could anyone just give up a child like that? She felt like she was beginning to understand. A little bit. Understanding didn’t necessarily help the aching in her heart.

It couldn't have been easy to be the one who felt like they ruined the love of their life. Now she was feeling that way herself. What if she hadn't run? What if she had stayed, and heard them out? What would Morrigan have had to say?

But still, it was difficult to imagine things going any differently than they had. Her fleeing the way she did just happened. She didn't even know if she could have stopped it.

But she should have tried. That doesn't absolve him of responsibility too, but she should have tried not to let everything fall apart. She pushed that picture out of her mind, of them standing there so absorbed in each other they didn't even see her as she stood just feet away. The picture still affected her, still brought up so many questions. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind.

"You can't live like this anymore Alistair. "

"I shouldn't be living like anything at all. I should be dead. I want to be dead. "

"No." Eva whispered, she pulled him to her again, as tightly as she could. "No," she said firmly. She felt the tears spilling down her cheeks. She felt the sobs coming up from that well of pain in her gut shake her core, drain her, erupting into an uncontrollable release. The pain had been waiting for so long to come up and out. Two years. Could that be all it was? It felt like it had been much longer.

Alistair clung to her as he cried silently, his whole body shaking, and Eva’s tears fell onto his head, wetting his hair. When the emotional release was over, Alistair slept. Eva stood and got dressed. The sun was part way up the sky now, and the sounds of movement echoed up from below. Looking at Alistair's clothes, the rags that she had washed the night before, she saw just how bad of shape they were in. She wiped her face and took a few deep breaths, then pulled a blanket up over Alistair and let herself out the door quietly.

Gilfoy bid her a warm good morning.

"Gilfoy, I know this is a strange question, but do you happen to have an extra pair of clothes? Men's clothes? I can pay you. Would five coin cover it?" She pulled out the coins and Gilfoy nodded.

"Sure thing lassie. Wait here," he said and strode down the hall under the staircase.

"Was everything okay last night sweetheart?" Sally asked, thrusting a bowl of stew and a hunk of bread and cheese into Eva's hand.

"Yes, Sally, thank you."

"And Alistair?" She asked gently.

"He is upstairs. I am getting him some new clothes, and I think I am going to take him away from a while. I am hoping a change of scenery might help… things," Eva said. She didn't even realize that was her plan until she said it.

"You're probably right about that."

"When do you need the room back?" Eva asked.

"Oh don't worry about it hon. You can have it another night if you need it. We have three other boarders checking out today so we should have plenty of space."

Gilfoy returned with a stack of clean clothes.

"We might. Thank you so much."

Eva climbed the stairs back up to the room.

Alistair was curled up on the floor, still sleeping. Setting down the clothes, she gently shook him awake.

He rubbed his eyes and sat up to look at her.

"I still can't believe I am not dreaming," he said quietly. Eva put the bowl in his hands.

"Last night, at the pool. That was real?"

She nodded.

"Eat," she told him, as she tore off a chunk of bread and began chewing on it herself.

"Alistair, I know what you're going through. I did the same thing. I came out of it. It's time for you to come out of it too," Alistair looked up at her with quiet eyes. He nodded.

"I'll help you. I…" she started. "I'm not even sure what I was planning when I got here. I wasn't sure I even wanted to see you. But then I did. And here we are. Things are… strange," she said. "Obviously they can't just go back to the way they used to be. We are different people now."

She paused.

"I have some business to attend to in town, and then I am leaving." She said. He stopped chewing and looked down into the bowl.

"You are going to come with me," she said quietly. "I don't really know what my plan is. I don't know where we'll go, or what we'll do. But I can't leave you here like this."

She tore off another chunk of the bread, and held it out to him. He reached up to take it, and instead covered her hand with his own. It was warm and dry. Eva liked feeling it there. She opened her fingers to drop the bread on the floor, and turned her own hand up to clasp his.

His eyes met hers again.

"Will you come with me?" she asked him. Again, he nodded.

“Of course I will. It’s all I have ever wanted,” he croaked.

"Okay. Stay here. Eat. There are new clothes on the chair over there. I am going to throw out those rags. Sleep if you need. We have this room for another night and I am thinking we should stay. I am going to go take care of my business, but I will be back as soon as possible," she said.

He nodded again. She shook her head at nothing other than her own confusing thoughts. Everything she was saying and doing was so unexpected, and their future so uncertain. She fought the urge to reach out and caress his face. The last two years she fought every memory she had of him. She battled with his image, which constantly forced itself into her thoughts, disrupting her day, destroying her. And now he was here in the flesh, and the sight of him was painful. Especially looking the way he did. Her brain seemed to want to reject the image just out of pure habit. She sat there for a moment, trying to soothe her own internal battle. She wanted to hold him again. She wanted to slap him and yell at him and stomp away. She wanted to ask him a million questions.

Why didn't he follow her? If all he and Morrigan did was talk to each other, why didn't he tell her about it? Didn't he trust her? Hadn't they told each other everything? She thought that perhaps that was why she reacted the way that she did; because it must have been bad if he was hiding it from her. If there was nothing to worry about, if it was really all so innocent, why was it a big secret? Did he really think she wouldn't understand? Wasn't what they had worth taking the chance? How could he have let all this happen!?

Her mind was racing. The more she thought, the more confused she got, and the more she felt the anger welling back up where it was before. She dropped his hand and stood to go.

"I'll be back soon," she said and looked down at him. He didn't move. Just kept chewing. But she saw him look up at her with sad, damaged eyes as the door closed.

She stood outside the door for a moment and took another deep, shaky breath. She had no idea what she was doing. There was a very good chance she would probably regret whatever it was that was going to happen. But, she thought, she would probably also regret not doing anything.

When Eva returned from delivering her letters, and getting the coin from the stablehand, who had put up quite a fuss, Alistair was lying asleep in bed in his new clothes. Even laying down she could tell that they hung off him.

At first Eva climbed in and laid down behind him. She wanted to put her arms around him, wanted to pull herself close and rest her face into the hollow between his shoulder blades the way she used to.

Instead she climbed out of the bed and went to the nest on the floor where Alistair had slept the night before. She had gained some understanding that had softened her anger a bit, but still felt cautious. Still had so many unanswered questions.

They awoke when the sun started going down. Alistair jumped awake and the bed creaked so violently that it startled Eva out of her own sleep. Her head throbbed, as it always did when she slept too much. She was hungry, her stomach growling.

"I need a drink," Alistair said. His hands were shaking. "I'm going to get sick if I don't get something. I already feel it starting."

"Okay, okay," Eva said, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She had known men who had that problem before. You couldn't just cut them off cold from something their body was used to doing every day.

Eva stood.

"Do you want to come downstairs?" she asked him.

"Maybe we could get something to go? Take a walk? Get some air? It'd be nice to stretch my legs," he said.

"Of course,” she answered.

The sky was still pink when they slipped out the back door with a cask of wine and a couple glasses.

"Follow me, I want to show you something," Alistair said.

They walked along the outskirts of the town, away from the prying eyes of the townspeople, and back toward the stream that had cleansed them both the night before. They followed the stream up a hill through some rocky escarpments and to a little overlook. It was flat, and gave them a view of the whole valley, including the pool, the growing hills in the distance and the dim lights of the town.

"I’ve spent a lot of time here," he said.

"I can see why. It's beautiful."

"Do you believe me Eva?" he asked.

She knew what he was referring to, even though they had mentioned nothing about it since that morning.

"If it was so innocent, why keep it a secret?" she asked. "If you were meeting just to talk, you could have told me. You SHOULD have told me. That's what made it look so bad. And if there were times I didn't know about, that meant you were sneaking away. Lying to me about where you were going. You had to know how that looked."

His head hung heavy, and she head a heavy breath rattle in his chest.

"You're right. Of course you're right, I know," Alistair took a drink of his wine. "It was to see Kieran. I wasn't supposed to see him. I was never supposed to know anything about him. I wasn't sure how you would react to that. "

"You didn't give me a chance, Alistair. I can't be with someone that I can't trust to be honest."

"I know. It was the biggest mistake of my life."

"I wish I had stayed and talked to you about it, but… I don't know that it would have helped. Maybe after some time it would have. I don't know. I should have stayed."

Eva refilled their wine, and took a drink. The situation was so emotionally charged, she needed the calming effect of the wine to soothe her frazzled nerves.

"So what are we going to do?"

"We're going to get you a change of scenery, and figure things out as we go," Eva said. "I’m sorry, I don’t know much more than that. I didn’t expect this. At all.”

She took a deep, shaky breath and continued, “I am going to try not to be angry, and you are going to try not to wallow in self-pity." With that Alistair laughed sadly. It was more of a croak.

"Deal. But I'll warn you," Alistair said, "I am pretty pitiful."

"Oh I know that. Look at that hair," Eva said.

"Yes, something must be done about this. I think this is the real reason I have been drunk for a solid year. There are no decent hair dressers for miles." Alistair said in his raspy voice. He laughed sadly, looking down. "I'm joking of course," he whispered. Listening to him try to make a joke was almost sadder than listening to him apologize.

"I think once it's been removed we need to mount it on a wall somewhere," Eva said, trying to shrug off the patina of heaviness that coated the moment.

"Oh I don't know about that. I'd hate to infect some poor unsuspecting admirer with bugs completely brand new to science. There'd be no treatment."

"Well that settles it then, it should be donated to science. For the good of mankind," Eva said.

Their old banter had come back to them so easily despite all they had been through, together and separately, but even as they continued it, it felt wrong. It just couldn’t be that easy.

No, they had a lot that needed to be repaired.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry, every day, every second since the moment it happened. I was sorry while I was doing it. You are so right. I should have trusted you. I should have talked to you."

Eva felt the ice around her heart melt some more. She could hear the regret in his voice and in his words. What man would still be in such a state two years after a breakup if he hadn't truly loved the one he lost? But she realized that whether or not he loved her was never really in question. It was whether or not he also loved Morrigan. If he had, if Morrigan loved him back, why wasn't she here now? She sighed. Nothing was as she thought it was. Not at all.

"I am sorry I didn't stay. That I didn't hear you out," she said, feeling more and more like the bad guy. She felt like all the anger she had held onto was pointless and stupid, and that this was all her fault. She reached out for his hand and took it into her own.

"I am not the man I used to be, Eva. I am a man you should be embarrassed to be seen with. I am king fool, in a town full of fools." he said. Then laughed sadly again, "I guess I got to be a king after all."

"I don't care about that," said Eva.

"If you had been here, if you had seen me, you would care. You would be appalled. I am a disgrace here," he continued.

"Hush Alistair," Eva said. "From today forward, things are going to be different. We are going to put that behind you. No wallowing, remember?"

"But wallowing has become my most frequented past time now. I don't know if I can just give it up that easily." he said. "Like this" he nodded to his wine. "It's automatic."

"Well, being angry has been mine. So I guess we both have our work cut out for us." Eva said, and she squeezed his hand.

Feeling spurred on by the wine, by the little bit of laughter they had shared, she scooted closer to Alistair. She could hear his breathing, feel the warmth that emanated from his breath and body. She felt the pull to him the way she used to, that magnetic charge that crackled with electricity and drew her in almost involuntarily. But her eyes still could not adjust to the difference in how he looked, compared to how she remembered him. Even though all she could see was his silhouette, it was still so markedly changed. If he was trying to fade into nothingness, he had almost accomplished it. It made her ache to see him look so ill. But his soul was there. His eyes, his frame. She needed to restore him, somehow. It would take some time, but it was something that must be done.

The sky was dark now, and the stars were scattered in a bright, twinkling carpet before them.

Eva drew a dagger and stood behind him.

"Whoa there," he said.

"Might as well take care of this animal on your head," Eva told him. "No time like the present."

She put her hand in his hair and quickly found a knotted lock. She gently cut it off and dropped it at her feet. Alistair's neck relaxed and he tilted his head to look up into the sky.

She took a moment to savor where they were, following Alistair's gaze up into the heavens. It was truly a beautiful vista they beheld, even when under cloak of darkness.

In just a matter of a few days, of hours, her life was so unexpectedly different. There was her Alistair, right there with her. She could reach out and touch him. She felt no anger or resentment at all in that moment. They had said their apologies. Things were not what she expected. The wine made her feel strong and confident. Made her feel unafraid to begin to open her heart again, even if just for now.

Gingerly, she made her way through Alistair's matted hair, doing her best to cut it at the same spot in order to leave an even length behind.

Without meaning to, she giggled.

"What?" Alistair asked.

"Well, maybe doing this while sober, and with light to see by would have been a better idea after all."

"My hair is the least of my worries right now," he said softly.

"What are your worries?" she asked.

He was silent, thinking.

"There are so many," he said. "I don't know where to begin."

"The sad state of me, for starters. Now that I am a bit more coherent, I am feeling aches and pains everywhere." He said. "and also, you know, where are we going to go? What are we going to do? How are you going to be able to stand me? I barely know who I am anymore."

"Let me worry about most of that," Eva said. "You definitely need some time to heal. To rest and regain your strength."

She sheared off a few more mats, and then eyed his head for any uneven areas. It was almost impossible to see with the lack of light, so she sheathed her dagger and lowered herself back to the ground at Alistair's side.

"We will start out tomorrow. I still have Zuni, my horse. We will need to return to South Reach to pay my commissioner out. Then I think we need to find somewhere to just be for a while. Maybe somewhere that no one knows our names. We can just live quietly for some time. Get a lot of rest. Put some weight back on you. Get to know each other again. It's not just physical wounds that need mending," she said.

She picked up his hand again. She wanted to scoot in closer, to rest her head on his shoulder and nuzzle in the way she used to. It amazed her how quickly the two years apart was fading into the recesses of her memory. Thanks to the wine, she was sure. She didn't know if it would all stay in the recesses, but she wanted it to, at least for tonight.

She laced her fingers in between his and held on tightly. His head turned and she could see that he was watching her. The moon was rising above the hills, shining a pale silver light over the land. She could see his new scars clearer than ever now that the moonlight was encasing them in deep shadows.  
Tentatively, she raised her hand to his face and started tracing the lines of the scars. She was almost glad he had been drunk. Hopefully that meant he hadn't felt most them.

"Maker's breath," he whispered, looking at her. "How are you more beautiful than I remember?"

"It must be a trick of the moon," she answered.

"No," he said decidedly, leaving no room for argument. And then he was touching her face too.

"Please don't leave me again," he said softly. "I don't care if you are a ghost, or a demon, or some cruel trick of my mind. Just stay with me."

Eva gave into her impulse and scooted in closer still. She felt the warmth of his body spreading across her as she leaned into him and brought one arm up his bony back.

She cupped his face in her other hand, caressing his cheek with her thumb, and then ran a finger along his jaw, which was still strong and stunning, despite the gauntness and sunken in cheeks.

"I need your help," he said, "with life. Living. Walking. Breathing. All of it."

Eva nodded.

"I can't do it without you. I don't want to," he said as his fingers gently slid down tendrils of her hair that hung in front of her ears. The sensation caused the hair on her neck and arms to stand on end.

Eva's face came forward of its own accord, as if drawn by some invisible tether. She rested her forehead on his shoulder while his fingers moved to trace a slow line down her neck, causing her to shiver and her breathing to go ragged. She hadn't been touched like that since the last time she was with him.

A torrent of longing was unleashed in her. She slid a hand over to his chest, and let it rest over his racing heart.

"Promise me," he said, pulling his arm out to wrap around her. "Please. Even if it's a lie, I don't care. I just need to believe that you won't leave me again." She pulled him closer to her and nuzzled her face into his neck, raising her lips to his ear. Her other hand remained on his heart.

"I promise Alistair."

He exhaled a long breath, and Eva felt a warm tear drop onto her cheek. She didn't know if it was hers or his.

"And I promise I won't do anything that stupid ever again." he whispered, making them both laugh softly.

Eva took her hand off his heart and trailed it up, over his protruding collarbones. Then up his neck, back to the strong line of his jaw. She raised her face and pulled him down toward her, but he needed little prodding.

They both inhaled a shaky breath as their lips touched again, for the first time in two years. Warm and soft, she drank him in. His scent, so familiar and so beloved, filled her. She finally felt the full force of how she had missed him. She had denied it, pushed it away, drowned it out, raged at it for so long, but now it rushed through her with a frightening intensity. Both of his arms were around her, holding her, pulling her closer, as though he was trying to pull her inside of himself. She was completely absorbed, every nerve of her body focused on the joining of their lips, the moving together of their mouths. His lips were as pillowy and luscious as she remembered, one of his few features that seemed to resist withering.

When they finally pulled apart he was breathing heavily. His body was so much thinner than she remembered. His strength greatly diminished. If he was feeling the same rush that she was then she could see how he might be drained.

But she would fix all that. They would ride off together tomorrow, and she would help him regain his strength. Together they would mend all the parts that had been broken and restore all that had been lost.

Still wrapped in each other's arms, they lay down fully in the grass.

Alistair watched her face intently, as though he was afraid to look away. They settled into each other, limbs intertwined and hearts pounding only millimeters apart.

She would not overwhelm Alistair with her desire for him just now, she decided. She feared she would hurt him. She had no doubt he was feeling it too, but his health was still very poor. Just less than 24 hours ago he was busy wasting away, trying his hardest to make himself fade into oblivion.

"Rest my love," she told him. “I’m here.” He slid his face in close and pressed his forehead to hers. She put her hand back over his heart and closed her eyes.


	2. Start of Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eva and Alistair continue to get reacquainted.

It was very late when they woke again, the moon in a different part of the sky. The country below them was quiet.

"I think that is quite enough sleep," Alistair said, feeling her stir. "We've been together for a day and almost two nights and I've slept through most of it."

"It'll be at least a two day journey to South Reach, we should be well rested for it," she said shifting her weight to help the circulation find its way back to her arm.

"So we'll sleep again later. Maybe in an actual bed," he said.

Suddenly he turned his face away and his body shook with loud coughing. Eva reached for him again, hoping to steady him.

"That doesn't sound good Alistair. And you feel a little feverish."

"It doesn't feel good either. The only thing that feels good is you." he said, running his hands down her back, pulling at the hollow of her waist.

"We should make a stop at the healer's on the way out of town. There must be something they can provide that can help."

"Agreed. But for now I feel rested, and I don't want to waste another moment in sleep when I could be right here."

Before she could respond his mouth was on hers again, hot and urgent.

She ran her fingers through his hair and kissed him back forcefully. Their bodies moved together in a dance that seemed both brand new and achingly familiar. She didn't remember the desire being this intense, this overwhelming even their first time, years ago at camp during the blight.

He had come to her back then, after weeks of flirting, stealing the occasional kiss, and fighting side by side, and told her outright that he wanted to be with her. Told her that their uncertain future made him sure that he didn't want to wait another moment, didn't want to take the chance that there wouldn't be an opportunity when everything was over. That little speech that he gave then was played over and over in her head, even well after they were committed and regularly professing their love. Those nights at camp had always retained a special place in her heart. She had been watching him since their first meeting with Duncan, admiring his graceful strength, charming naivete and good humor. Their eyes would meet over the campfire, or during a calm moment on their journies, and they would just look into each other silently, holding eye contact for as long as they dared. They spent their days mired down in such a dark and ominous purpose, but he could open his mouth and out would come something that would cause the clouds to open up and the sun would shine and there would be hope and laughter in the world again. Alistair became everything that was good in the world to her, everything that was worth saving.

She had known that what had been growing inside her was being felt by him too. But their mission was one that promised grave consequences, and Alistair was the son of the King. She didn't know what ties he may have, or obligations that might complicate his availability. But she was so consumed by desire that it made her breathless and desperate. Until he came to her, and confessed his feelings and desires. He blundered through the talk, stumbling on his words and blushing with such a surprising and endearing innocence.

Their first night together had been the absolute zenith of her life up til that point. She had felt herself falling in love with him before then, but that night in the tent turned that ember of infatuation to a blazing, roaring inferno.

That had been topped multiple times since then of course. In fact almost every night together after had been as good or better. Their history had been filled with so many scenes of ecstasy and profound tenderness, that the memories had brought her to her knees on numerous occasions that last two years. Those were the memories that she tried to drown in alcohol and carelessness.

Precisely what he had been doing as well.

But that longing desire that she felt in the camp those years ago paled in comparison to what she was feeling now. She knew what their bodies were capable of doing together, and the intense connection that they found each time they had made love. It was that that made their separation so impossible to bear. She remembered. Every cell in her body remembered him, screamed for him.

Yet something nagged at her. While she wanted to give herself right then and there on the grass, she found that it wasn't that easy. She still had questions that were unanswered, that sat like cold boulders of lead in the back of her mind. The hurt she had endured ran too deep, was too entrenched in her. She couldn't be over it so quickly.

But she didn't have to be the one to pull away, because he did.

He rolled away from her, leaving her whole body throbbing where it lay, as he was once again seized by a deep coughing fit.

When it was over, he was motionless, trying to catch his breath. She sat up, trying to clear her head and calm the river of sensation that rushed through her. She put a hand on his back and felt his heart racing. It was always racing now, working so hard. His poor heart had endured so much.

She moved herself close to him again, and helped him sit upright.

"How long has it been this bad?" she asked.

"I don't know, really," he said. "Part of the whole willful oblivion thing." he joked, but Eva didn't laugh.

He reached an arm out and wrapped it around her waist.

"I honestly never believed this day would come. I didn't prepare for it. I didn't save anything of myself in case you came back," he said.

"Alistair," Eva began, figuring she might as well get her questions out of the way "why did you come to Crestwood, of all places? You didn't know anyone here."

"No but you did. If there was any chance that I would see you again, it would probably be somewhere near people you may one day visit."

Eva nodded.

"So, I mean, I guess I thought that it was my best chance. But, really, deep down I thought you were gone. You were gone. You were gone for so long."

She raised her hand to his cheek, and he leaned into her palm.

"Sally said that you walked in at the end of winter. How could you have done that? There is nothing else around for many miles."

Alistair shook his head. "That… I guess was by the grace of the Maker. I was hungry, tired, everything hurt. But that was really no different than what had become normal. I told you that I was trying to… just not live anymore. But I guess I was too much of a coward to actually, you know, DO something. I was a little disappointed when I eventually arrived. But then I was here, and I have been here since."

"Will you tell me what happened right after I left?" she asked.

"I will. I will tell you." he said. There was a long silence.

"But, can I tell you some other time?" he asked sadly. "I just don't think I have the energy, or the strength to revisit that yet. I know it's been, some time. I actually don't even know how long. But… I just can't." he said.

"Alistair…" Eva started. But in her throat was a huge knot of jumbled emotions that blocked anything else she could think of to say. She tried to collect herself.

"Are you regretting this already?" he asked.

"No," she said softly, pulling him close to her again. Taking his face in her hand and searching the dark shadows of his features. She so wanted to look into his eyes, to trace the familiar lines of his lips.

"I regret that we didn't bring a light," she said. "So that I can look upon you."

"I imagine it's not quite what you remember." he said.

Eva kissed him softly. "You might be a little worse for wear," she whispered as she kissed him again.

"But you're still you." Another kiss. "Still my Alistair," the warm pillows of his lips fit hers perfectly.   
He lowered his head to her shoulder, and she ran her lips up and down the smooth surface of his neck, causing him to shiver.

"Did you try to follow me?" she asked.

"Yes. Of course." he said. "But it got me arrested when I stole some girl's horse. I was caught within an hour and spent a week in jail bouncing off the walls. By the time I got out, you were long gone."

She shivered for a different reason this time, as a chill invaded the night breeze.

"It'll be light soon. If we are going to leave at a decent hour we should probably sleep while we can."

"More sleep", he said. "I am going to be the most rested man in Thedas."

She helped him up and they climbed down the outcropping, holding onto each other with each step.

"Alistair the Well Rested is what they'll call me" he laughed. "Oh look at that man over there! He looks like he has slept for an exceptionally long time."

Eva laughed, "Yes, well, let's get you well again and then you stay awake for as long as you want."

"Alistair the Bed Dweller." he continued. "Hide your blankets, lock your houses, leave no bedroom unattended! For one lapse in supervision and you may find your beds occupied by the eternally sleeping man!"

"Very funny Alistair." Eva said through her smile. "They should be so lucky to have you in their beds."

"Well some residents around here might beg to differ on that point. Alistair the Well Rested is certainly better than Alistair the Drunk isn't it?" he said. "Though it's close to the same thing. Either way I'm mostly unconscious. At least if I'm just sleeping I'm less likely to wake up covered in vomit in some alley. That has happened you know."

Eva stopped them in their tracks, turned and took his face in her hands. She looked as deeply into his eyes as she could in the dark night.

"I'm so sorry my love," she said. "I'm sorry you suffered so, and for such a long time. I wish I had come sooner, and helped you."

Alistair's smile faded. "I did it to myself. But you're helping me now," he said seriously, raising a hand to caress her cheek. "Oops, I guess I was wallowing again wasn't I?"

"Come," Eva said pulling him along. "We'll never earn you your prestigious new title if we don't get back to the room.”

"Yes, also I wouldn't resist going to bed with you if you paid me to."

"Well I'm fresh out of coin," joked Eva.

"It'd do you no good anyway. Or didn’t you just hear what I said? In need of an ear cleaning?"

Later, as the light crept into the room of the Inn, Eva woke once again wrapped in Alistair's arms. She had spent their time in the dark seeing his face in her mind as it had been before they parted, still youthful and full. But the gentle blue glow that grew in the sky outside the window was illuminating the new weariness, and the brutal marks of pain and time on his face yet again.

She studied his face as he slept. His cheekbones were so much sharper, eyes still sunken into purplish sockets. His neck was thinner, lacking that healthy strength that she always admired.

He had a few more coughing fits in his sleep, his lungs rattling with fluid. Eva felt her worry growing.

She could also see in the increasing light the atrocious haircut she had given him. That would need to be corrected if anyone was going to take them seriously.

In time, he woke. His eyelids fluttering open silently. He focused on her face immediately, and she saw the softening in his eyes as he extricated himself from his dream world and registered his new reality. His eyes burned an intense amber. Even if the rest of his face was wan and scarred, the vivid burst of his eyes was an explosion of life.

"I'm still not dreaming?" he asked softly, voice croaking.

"Still not dreaming," she confirmed.

Their embrace tightened and they closed any gaps where their bodies weren't touching. He still felt feverish, and so thin she worried holding him too close might hurt him. But he seemed to have no such concern.

Despite the state of his health, her body responded strongly to their closeness.

She kissed him repeatedly, savoring his warm skin. That musky and delicious natural scent of him filled her senses like a drug. She ran her hands over the places on his body that she used to steal enjoyment from at every opportune moment.

The need for him was growing, pooling up inside her and turning desperate, as the last two years of physical drought reared its ugly head. She hadn't wanted to overwhelm him last night, and she still didn't want to. But she couldn't seem to stop herself now. Their legs were entwined, their bodies pressed hard into each other, teasing ripples of pleasure up her body. What had began as an embrace and a series of caresses had turned into two bodies writhing and pulsing together.

When she slid her hand under his tunic and onto the burning skin of his lower back, he took in a sharp ragged breath that registered between her legs like a bolt of lightning. She felt her self control slipping further and further away. A warm abyss of need opened up and began to swallow her, smothering all her thoughts and leaving nothing but the exquisite sensation of his body moving against hers. His hands dragged themselves over the aching curves of her body, and she opened herself, allowing him to sink deeper against her.

Then his hand was under her tunic as well, his fingers digging into her ribs as he pulled her to him tighter and tighter. Maker's Breath how she had missed his touch. She swore that she would recognize his touch alone among thousands, sight unseen. His mouth was urgent, probing, searching her skin, her lips, her neck, trying to devour her. Those luscious lips of his that she had always enjoyed were doing exactly what it seemed they were built to do.

She pulled away for just a moment,

"Are you well enough for this?" she asked him as her body screamed for him, the need for him almost making her quake.

His eyes were dark and intense, also swallowed up by the inferno of desire. He nodded and then rushed back in with his mouth, kissing her with his whole being, with his soul. She felt his heart pounding against her chest as he lay on her, as he enveloped her with his large frame. Suddenly he no longer seemed frail and sick. He was full of vitality and strength as he deftly removed his tunic and slid hers up her body and over her arms.

Immediately his mouth was upon her again, expertly exploring every curve and crevice of her neck, her collarbones, her breasts.

She almost had no recollection of how they had gotten the rest of their clothing off. She only knew that her desire for him had risen to its bursting point at almost the very moment he had finally entered her. They had both cried out at the ecstatic instant of their joining, and then strained together as though no depth within her would be deep enough. They held onto each other with such force that it was almost violent. Eva felt like she wouldn't ever be close enough to him to satisfy her need, not until the cells within their flesh opened up and absorbed each other completely, turning the two of them into a single writhing being. Her body remembered him, and he teased tender pleasure centers within her that hadn't been touched since the last time they had made love. She recalled her belief that the Maker must have sculpted him especially to fit her. Wave after wave of orgasm overpowered Eva, and Alistair's rhythmic rocking built to a crescendo that caused him to cry out as he clutched at her rightly to his heaving chest.

It was over quickly, but they did not come unclasped. They lay in recovery, their bodies still throbbing together. Eva ran her fingers through Alistair's hair as he rested where he collapsed on her chest. She gently stroked his ears, neck and face. Basking in the familiar features of the love that she had lost, drinking in the scent that radiated off his skin. It brought the sting of tears back to her eyes, realizing the full force of how intensely, overwhelmingly she had missed him. How barren and desolate her life without him had been. Tears streamed down her face, hot and large. Suddenly she was within the throes of yet another emotional outpouring. The physical release triggered months worth of despair to come rushing forward.

Alistair held her and let her purge her system yet again. He didn't tell her not to cry or try to calm her down. He simply stroked her hair and held her tight as her body and mind struggled to release the deluge of repressed emotions.

When it was finally starting to lessen, Eva felt her sobs turn to laughter. Alistair eyed her quizzically.

"Shall I fetch a magister? Perhaps an exorcism is in order?" he joked gently.

Eva allowed her laughter to grow, feeling delirious.

"Are we done crying yet?" she asked him.

"Crying and sleeping, crying and sleeping. That does seem to be all we do," he remarked. "Well, and some kissing here and there. And hopefully more of this," he said as he gave her a little squeeze.

"No, but really, I think I am done now," she said. "For today, anyway. Who knows what tomorrow will bring. The last few days have been so… unexpected."

"Alistair the Well Rested and Eva the Emotional Maelstrom. Quite a pair we are." he said.

"As long as we are a pair, I don't really care what we're called."

"Agreed," he said tenderly.

"Alistair, how I have missed you. Words can't even begin to express…"

"I know my love. I know," he said "Me too."


	3. Resurrection part 3

Sally served Alistair an extra large portion of porridge, and slid two hunks of bread and cheese across the table.  
“Eva dear, I cannot tell you how happy I am that you finally got him to eat!” exclaimed Sally, beaming a smile down at the golden haired man. “Here I have been watching you waste away all these months. In so many ways. And now look at you.”  
Alistair mumbled an incoherent reply, his words blocked by his mouth full of food.  
“Sally you’ll take good care of him while I run to the market for a few supplies?”  
“Of course. We’ll straighten out this mess as well,” she said as she poked at a few awkwardly protruding tufts of hair on his head.  
“Thank you so much.. And for the room too. Are you sure you won’t take some coin for it?”  
“Don’t even think of it. I will walk you out though,” she said, gesturing toward the back door, leaving Alistair at the table shoveling porridge into his mouth. Eva was relieved to see that he was so hungry. It seemed a very good sign that his appetite was back.  
Sally closed the back door behind them and then let out a huge sigh.  
“I don’t know the details of what drove you two apart, or why you stayed away so long, but I sincerely hope you two have put that whole mess behind you. It is a huge weight off my shoulders not to have to worry about whether we’ll be burying that poor lad,” she said. The words sent a chill down Eva’s spine. She had been trying not to think about the fact that if she waited much longer, a couple more months, or another winter, Alistair may have truly accomplished his goal of wasting away into nothing. Not that she was waiting for anything, exactly. She had just been trying to move on.  
“Sally, I had no idea where he was until just a few weeks ago, when I heard some men in a bar gossiping. I thought he and Morrig…That is, I didn’t know if he wanted to be found,” Eva said.  
“I know sweetie. I truly believe that it is by the grace of the Maker that you knew where to come, and when.” She paused. “I don’t know if he has given you the full story of his time here. It might be best that you not know, that you just let him put it behind him and pretend it all never happened. Or he might eventually need to acknowledge it, and deal with it.” She sighed heavily. “I don’t know honey. But the poor lad has suffered probably a bit more than you would expect. Not that that’s your responsibility exactly. But he definitely needs some loving care, and patience.”  
“Whatever he needs, I will try my best to give him.”  
“He is lucky to have you,” she said.  
“I am not sure of that. He is in the state he is in because of me,“ Eva said.  
“Hush now. Alistair might need your help right now, but all of us make our own choices in life. He can’t blame you for his.”  
“I know, but…”  
“Nope. I won’t hear of it,” Sally cut her off, and her face took on a pained grimace. “I can see that you have both hurt, probably for far longer than was necessary. But such is the way of great misunderstandings. I hope, I mean…” she stopped herself and sighed. “Are you just here out of guilt sweetie?” she finally asked.  
“Guilt!?” Eva asked incredulously. “Well… no. Not exactly. I mean, I suppose I have started to feel a bit of that now, seeing what he has done to himself. But I was convinced that HE should be the one feeling the guilt, not me,” she stopped herself. “You could never have kept me away otherwise. So, no.” she said with conviction. “No, I am here because I love him. Maybe that isn’t what brought me here to start with two days ago, or at least not that I was aware of at the time. But it is why I am still here, and why I am taking him with me.“  
Sally’s face relaxed. “Good. That’s all I have ever hoped for, for him. Now I know I won’t have to worry anymore,” she smiled and squeezed Eva’s arm affectionately.  
“I’ll send a few casks of wine with you then, to stop him from getting sick until his body adjusts. Curing someone stuck on the drink is no easy task. But I think he has good motivation now. And I trust you have heard the cough?” she asked.  
“Yes, I have. I will be stopping at the healers after I hit the market.”  
Sally nodded in approval. “All right. Off you go then. See you when you get back.”  
Eva turned to go, but stopped.  
“Sally,” she began.  
“Thank you again. I mean it, for anything and everything you have done for him. And for me.”  
“Of course, dear. Go on now.” she said, and bid her farewell.

After purchasing her provisions, Eva said her goodbyes to Gilfoy and Sally and collected Alistair. She walked hand in hand with him the three blocks to the stablemaster who was housing Zuni. While she was away at the market and looking into the faces of the people who, according to Sally, had not been very kind to her lover, she had decided not to steal Alistair away unnoticed, but to let the townspeople see them leave. She wanted their last memory of him to be one of him looking as much like his old self as possible, and being cared for by the esteemed “Hero of Ferelden”, for whatever that was still worth to people.  
“Shouldn’t we still be sneaking around?” he whispered to her as he nodded to the many passersby who had stopped to stare at them.  
“Why, would you have preferred that?” she asked.  
“Well, actually no, I guess. But I am finding this a little terrifying. I haven’t seen these people sober in I don’t know how long. I have no idea what they’re thinking right now. I am sure they’re all hating me, thinking that you are just taking pity on a fellow Warden.“  
She dropped his hand and slid her arm around his waist, pulling him in close.  
“Let them think whatever they want,” she said, looking up into his face, admiring the strong symmetry in all of his features, even with their sharpness enhanced and the reddish purple that rimmed his eyes, he was still beautiful. She pulled his attention to her, locking onto his eyes and trying to let her confidence reassure him.  
“Yes. Right,” he said softly as he came in for a kiss. “Who cares about them.”  
They did not rush on their walk and Eva made a point of looking into the eyes of many of the people who stopped to stare. She was daring them to say something, anything. She didn’t know what that would be, but Sally’s words echoed loudly in her mind. These people had not been kind to him. They sat by and mistreated him as he suffered. She almost wanted someone to give her a reason to tear into them, to rip out her daggers and make them regret any unkind thing they ever said. But no one did. But she knew from the chorus of whispers in their wake that the whole scene was very unexpected for everyone.

After situating her pack on Zuni’s back, and adjusting all the gear, Eva turned to Alistair and gave him one last, deep kiss. She savored every second of it, knowing she wouldn’t get another chance until their next stop, which was at minimum a few hours away. When she pulled away to mount the horse, she noticed Alistair seemed to be beaming, while trying to bite back a smile. She hoped she had helped him feel a little bit more dignity than whatever it was he was left with after all his time in this town.

At the first stop, Alistair opened a cask of wine with shaky hands. He was quiet as he went for it, filling his canteen with dark red wine, and then walked up a craggy trail and stood alone, quite a distance away from where Eva was offering Zuni some water.  
She decided not to follow. If he needed this moment to ease himself out of withdrawal, she wouldn’t disturb him. But she wondered what he was thinking. This was not the sort of thing he would have done before.  
She busied herself, checking the gear, drinking water and stretching her legs, figuring if Alistair wanted her he would let her know, somehow.  
She sat in the grass and bit into an apple, eating eagerly to replenish the energy lost on the rough, tedious road. She had just tossed the core out into a patch of dry grass when she heard footsteps behind her, and Alistair collapsed into a reclined position beside her.  
“Is everything okay?” she asked.  
His face was placid, with the numbed, glassy expression of intoxication  
“Yep,” he said with an easy smile.  
“Well. Good,” she said, and reached over to rest her hand on his thigh. He looked at her with an expression she found difficult to decipher. Instead of asking him further questions, she just flashed him a quick smile and looked away. She knew he needed a slow transition to sobriety, but she had no real experience with helping someone kick such an insidious and debilitating problem as alcoholism. Suddenly she felt that she was in a little over her head.  
Alistair picked up her hand off his thigh, and brought it to his mouth. He began kissing her palm, working his way around to her knuckles and the back of her hand.  
His expression changed to one of apology, his eyes seeming to ask for her forgiveness. He needed say nothing.  
She offered him her canteen of water, pushing it to him. He took a deep drink and handed it back.  
Neither knowing what to say, they let their eyes do all the talking. She didn’t ask him anything, and he offered no explanations.

They had returned to small talk as they remounted Zuni for the next stretch of their journey. Already the landscape had changed from one of hills and rocks, to flat and bushy terrain.

After much of the day had passed, she realized she was baring much more of Alistair’s weight than before, and that weight was starting to list precariously to one side. She assumed he must have fallen asleep, but slowly he was leaning more and more. Until the moment his balance tipped enough that she realized he was going to slip right off.  
“Alistair!” she gasped, her heart catching in her throat, but got no response. She quickly brought the horse to a halt and turned to grab him, but he seemed to already be in the throes of freefall. Instead she held him fast and let herself slide off the horse with him. But despite his slight weight, he crashed to the ground before she could get footing enough to catch him.  
“Alistair?” she asked again, grabbing him and looking into his face. He was unconscious, and out so deep that he was completely undisturbed by the fall and the landing. Eva felt the twitch of uneasiness fire up in her gut. Even among alcoholics, this could not be normal.  
She shook him and called his name, but he did not stir. His head lolled around and his body was complete dead weight. It had been almost two hours since the previous stop, so much of the alcohol he consumed then should have worked its way out of his system by then.  
“Okay. I guess we are taking a break for a little while,” she sighed, trying to calm herself. She looked around and frowned. There was no good spot for shelter anywhere nearby, as they were surrounded on all sides by a wide open meadow. The sun was beating down on them with no shade in sight, and there could be bandits in these roads. Eva didn’t like it, but decided an hour’s rest here wouldn’t be too big a deal. As long as he woke up and they could get moving, at least find a better place to shelter for the night, then they should be okay. She knew they would have to camp soon, but was hoping to at least find a place amongst the trees or rocks to block them from view of the roads.

She laid Alistair in the shadow of Zuni, and wiped a cool wet cloth over his forehead. Putting her head to his chest, she listened to his heartbeat, which remained as strong and steady as it ever as, if still a bit faster than she expected for an unconscious person. And his breathing definitely seemed shallow and more rapid than she liked, just like his heart. When pressed up against him she could feel the rattling of that fluid just sitting in the bottom of his lungs.  
She had picked up several draughts of healing potion, but had forgotten to have him drink one before they departed. The excitement of leaving had him in such good spirits, there seemed no need at the moment. But now she was kicking herself.  
“Alistair, my love,” she said softly as she wiped at his forehead with the cloth. “What is happening?”  
Finally there was movement; his head rolled and she thought she heard the beginnings of a quiet groan.  
“Alistair?” she asked again, still not inured to the sound of his name on her lips after so long of refusing to speak it.  
She brought her lips down onto his and kissed him lightly, and then picked his head up and placed it in her lap, holding him and feeling his pulse beat rhythmically at his temples. Could this truly be a part of the drunkenness? The timing just seemed so off.  
Finally his eyelids began to twitch, and then blink.  
“Come back to me,” she said to him. His eyes fully opened, but took several heartbeats to find their focus.  
“Hey,” she whispered between soft kisses, “You... passed out.”  
“Passed out?” he asked, looking around him.  
“Yes, you fell right off the horse. Does anything hurt?”  
He started moving his body around, scooting into a position that allowed him to sit up more easily.  
“My head,” he said.  
Eva quickly pulled out one of the vials she bought from the healer and pulled off the topper, pushing into his limp hands. “Drink this,” she ordered. “Drink.”  
He took it and threw it back, making a face as it went down.  
“Ugh, you’d think they could make that stuff taste better,” he said.  
“Has this happened before?”  
He shook his head. “Maybe I just fell asleep?”  
“But you slept through falling off the horse,” she said.  
He groaned. “I guess that explains the headache.”

She sighed. He didn’t seem as concerned as she was, and that rankled her.  
“We only have a few hours left of sunlight. Can you get up? We need to find a better place to set up camp than this,” she said as she looked around. It was a beautiful day and despite the lack of trees the air was filled with birdsong. But once the sun went down, their campfire would be visible for miles, drawing anyone within sight who might have questionable intentions.

“Come, my love. We just need to find a place out of view and then you can rest,” she said and he nodded his agreement. She took his arm, helped him rise and insisted he eat a piece of jerky that she pulled from her pack. He staggered a bit once he was at his feet, and then took more of the wine. She had never heard of fainting spells being a part of alcohol withdrawal before.

After another hour on Zuni, a part of the ground in the distance swelled up and Eva redirected the horse for what looked like an outcropping of rocks along the hill. As they drew nearer, she was relieved to see that a rushing stream also cut through the hill, leaving shallow cliffs rising over each bank.  
Eva led Zuni out to a patch of grass at the lowest point between two swells in the land, knowing she could trust him to stay close, and sat Alistair down against the cliff wall while she built a fire.  
“It’s too bad we don’t have a tent,” he said “Lots of good memories with you in tents.”  
She smiled knowingly at him.  
“Do you remember the night we camped at the bank of Lake Calenhad? Before going to the circle?” he asked.  
“Of course,” she said, “All of our tents were just feet apart. We could smell Oghren’s farts.”  
Alistair laughed.  
“And trying to stay totally silent while making love that night, knowing that the whole party was right there. Oh that was fun. If anyone was awake, they would have known,” he said.  
“Yes, they would have,” she said.  
Eva smiled at the memory. She almost blushed as she recalled her attempts to stifle her cries of ecstasy, pressing her face into Alistair’s chest, which then was thick with healthy curves and sinewy strength. She almost brought up how Morrigan had teased her in her caustic way the next morning about how badly they had failed at being discreet. It turned out that everyone had heard everything, or at least they had for the first few hours until they finally all dropped off into sleep due only to sheer exhaustion. But the name of the beautiful dark woman died on her lips, as Eva thought better of bringing her into their lighthearted conversation.  
Eva extracted the flask of wine and settled herself next to Alistair. She took a deep drink and handed it off to him. He took it with shaky hands and had to stop gulping to cough, and then continued, emptying the flask completely.  
When it was done, he dropped his head back against the cliff wall and let out an exhale that sounded pained. She wondered what aches and needs he was holding under his surface. She figured he probably was trying not to be too much of a burden, or a cause for too much concern. Especially after the fall.  
Eva rested a hand on his shoulder and tried to keep the extent of her worry out of her eyes. She didn’t want him to feel like he was being pitied.  
“Did the potion help at all?” she asked.  
“It did, a little. But it didn’t last,” he answered.  
“There’s only one thing that helps completely,” he said as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.  
She leaned in and claimed his lips in a long, slow kiss, enjoying the taste of wine on his tongue. His arms may have lost a bit of bulk, but they were still filled with a wiry strength, and they seemed to easily scoop her up so that she found herself completely in his lap. When their lips parted, she kept her face close, breathing him in and studying the small details of his face.  
She traced the sensuous lines of his mouth and counted the pale freckles that dotted his cheeks, his strong chin covered in a copper stubble that bristled against her fingertips. For a brief second, a flash of Morrigan kissing him appeared in her mind’s eye, and she almost physically winced. She squeezed her eyes shut and pushed out the picture.  
“What?” he asked.  
She shook her head, not knowing what to say. She lowered her head to his shoulder and let it rest there.  
“I guess I can’t ask you not to keep things from me, after I kept so much from you.”  
Eva said nothing, his reminder of the secrets he kept only helping the disturbed ache to rise from her gut into her throat. She exhaled and squeezed her eyes shut again.  
That part of their life could be put behind them now. They were together again. She already committed to taking him away somewhere, so it’s not like she could change her mind now. She felt his pulse quickening and his arms around her tightened into a vise grip.  
“Eva,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I love you.”  
The words traveled through her and helped to extinguish the unsettled feeling. Yes, Alistair loved her. Alistair had always loved her.  
She picked her head back up and kissed him again, letting her hands find and hold his face as she explored his mouth with her own. She sat up and brought her legs around, lowering herself back onto his lap in a straddle. Their limbs wrapped around each other, holding tightly, and she felt the stirring between his legs as his manhood grew hard between them. She lost herself in her kiss, her tongue sliding over his, entwining. Her fingers threading through his hair and grabbing on. He let his head rest in her grip, and she gently pulled it back so that she could find the smooth skin of his neck with her mouth. She took mouthfuls of him in, letting her tongue run over the salty, velvety skin, finding the racing pulse that held the music of his life. His breathing heavy beneath her and he slid hands under her clothes and up the bare skin of her back.  
Eva shed her shirt and his hands found her breast, squeezing and caressing her nipples until they hardened and goosebumps rose around them. She gasped as he pinched just hard enough, finding that perfect measure of force that mingled pain with pleasure, and made her whole body sing.  
They stopped reluctantly to scramble off the rest of their clothing, spreading a cloak on the ground before them. Eva lowered herself down into Alistair’s lap again, her mouth finding his instantly and letting her tongue explore every inch within her reach, as other parts of him explored her further down.  
She arched her back at the thrill that raced over her as Alistair’s hands did their work on her skin, pulling and caressing, his palms smooth and heavy as they tried to devour her.  
She opened her eyes and found his Amber gaze looking right back into her. The sky had now turned a deep purple above them, but the little nook they set their camp in was bathed in a warm flickering light from the fire. His skin and hair seemed to glow with a golden sheen from the firelight, making him look healthy again.  
They kept their eyes locked into each other as they moved, slowly and inexorably building up the sweet crescendo of pleasure that they were so practiced at, their bodies moving with automatic knowledge of the other’s.  
“I love you Alistair,” she said. His eyebrows raised to a slightly pained expression as they looked into her, his amber eyes exuding a mixture of sadness and relief that struck a deep chord in her heart. And he crushed her to him, his lips trembling in another deep, passionate kiss. His hands found her head and they brushed through her hair until his fingers were up against her scalp, holding her head tenderly to his face. His lips gently sucked and pulled on hers, stifling every sigh, ever moan that escaped her throat.

She hoped their cries of release didn’t carry far across the surrounding fields, but was too entrenched in the sea of sensations to think much about it.  
After, she stayed wrapped around him and they held each other upright. She let her face rest in the nook of his shoulder so that every breath she took was drenched in the scent of his skin.  
“I suppose she we should probably eat,” she said.  
“Yes, food would be good,” he agreed.  
She rose and dressed, walking over to the packs she had removed from Zuni’s saddle. There sat the full casks of wine, and a small pack of cold chicken and cheese. She gathered them up and returned to Alistair, who sat shirtless looking into the fire. His eyes met hers as she approached and for a moment she was transported back five years, to the time of the blight. How many times had their eyes met over the flames of a campfire? She handed him a portion of food and refilled the wine, losing her mind to memories of a time long past.

The first time they camped, it was just him, Morrigan, Sten, Leliana and Eva’s Mabari, Zeke. There were awkward silences as the strangers all crept around each other, setting up their tents and speaking mostly about the blight and the stories they had heard from others in their towns. But a sense of purpose emerged as the new recruits sat in a circle and questioned Alistair about the darkspawn, curious to learn all that he knew of the archdemon. She and him had been the only ones at camp who had faced darkspawn by then, and Alistair answered everyone’s questions with as much detail as they requested. But Eva found herself just watching him silently as he spoke, mostly to Leliana who had come up with thoughtful question after question. Looking from Leliana, to Morrigan and back to her, Alistair had taken them all in with intelligent eyes and an easy wit. He held himself with a quiet regality that was reflected in his straight posture, and the effortlessness with which he bore his metal suit of armor.

She wasn’t sure she’d had much time to just observe him before the first night camp, and she liked what she saw much more than she expected to. He had an easy smile that was at such odds with the seriousness of the situation they were in, and Eva realized that she would briefly forget about the fear that was eating away at her when she saw him smile, or heard him make a silly joke. At some point he noticed her eyes watching him, and she found that as he spoke to Leliana his eyes flicked in her direction more and more. She was quiet then, allowing him to take center stage. She did not feel confident enough to answer any questions herself, and she had already had most of her own questions answered by Duncan at Ostagar.  
When Leliana and Morrigan were satisfied and retreated to their tents, only Eva and Alistair remained. Alistair stood and came to sit beside her.  
“You’ve been quiet,” he said.  
“Have I?” she asked.  
“Something bothering you?”  
“You mean besides the demons pouring out of the ground and the imminent end of the world?” she joked, earning her a quiet laugh.  
“Yes, besides that.” he said, shingin gleaming eyes of gold at her.  
“I just wonder at our chances of defeating the archdemon with only two Wardens left, one of whom is a brand new, untested recruit.”  
“You wouldn’t consider having to fight our way up to light the beacon a test? I saw you fight and I was definitely impressed. I can see why Duncan wanted you for the Wardens,” he said.  
“The only actual fighting I had done before was in practice with my brothers. Even Leliana and Morrigan have more experience in true combat than I do,” she said. “I just hope I don’t endanger them, or you.”  
“Look, all I know is that I trust Duncan. And if he thought that you were Grey Warden material, then he must have had a good reason to think so,” his eyes were warm and kind as he spoke, inciting a small flock of butterflies to take flight in her stomach. Any discussion of Duncan always brought a noticeable note of sadness to his voice, but she saw him struggle through it, trying to keep his upbeat tone. It was clear he was doing it for her, and her heart warmed to him even more.  
“And actually, to know that you are as good as you are with so little experience is a little intimidating. Enough practice and you won’t need my help at all, you’ll be able to knock that pesky archdemon off all by yourself without batting an eye,” he continued. Eva felt a blush creep up her cheeks.  
She laughed. “Will you help me? We could practice together, or if you think of it, just give me some pointers?” she asked.  
“Oh I see, trying to make me redundant as quickly as possible, then?” he said.  
“Even if you were redundant, I’d still keep you around for the entertainment value,” she smiled, holding his eyes for a heartbeat longer than than necessary.  
“Ahh, so you think I’m entertaining? Finally someone sees my true gifts. I shall be immortalized in legends as the wacky court jester who carried the hero’s slippers and refilled her wine,” he joked back.  
“Oh, do we have wine? Why didn’t you say so? I prefer red, ideally with a pinch of cinnamon.”  
“Well aren’t we fancy?” he laughed. “I wish we had wine. Let’s make a point to get some of that in the next town.”

He reclined back to rest on his elbows and she tried to press her smile down, not wanting to look too smitten.

“A pinch of cinnamon, you say? I’ve never heard of anyone taking their wine like that before.”  
“Well, it goes a long way to improve the really bad stuff. It would probably ruin the good stuff,” she shrugged.  
“Hm. I’ll have to try that. Look, though. For what it’s worth, I’m not worried. You seem real sharp and you are obviously very hardworking and willing to learn. And I am not kidding about being a little intimidated. I have no concerns having you fight by my side,” he said giving her a little nudge with his elbow, his voice turning serious.  
“Thank you Alistair.” she said softly, her arm buzzing where his had touched her.  
“Don’t mention it. So, I suppose I should go ahead and find out now; where do you keep your slippers?”  
She laughed, “Ah, a glass of wine and a pair of slippers and this campsite would feel as lush as any palace.”

Two weeks later, Alistair had surprised her by sneaking up behind her and reaching around a to place a full goblet of wine into her hands. Floating on the top was a small pinch of cinnamon.


	4. Chapter 4

With bellies full of mutton and wine, they left behind the final town and began their crossing of the Bannorn. Alistair sat behind her on the horse, his arm clutched tightly around her waist, chin resting gently upon her shoulder. When the ground under Zuni’s feet was smooth enough, Eva would tilt her head to lean against the side of his and would be rewarded by the rush of a contented breath exhaling in her ear. She found herself grinning from time to time, marveling at the unexpected turn her life had taken yet again; she'd stumbled back into a life with Alistair as quickly as she had originally stumbled into its destruction.

While her mind was still troubled with the occasional worried thought, the squeeze of the strong arms around her reassured her that all would be well. Eventually anyway. What more could she ask for than for the betrayal that had ruined her to turn out not to be anything other than what she feared? For the love she had lost to be returned, to learn that he had never stopped loving her at all? Of course everything would be okay. They were together again.

The day droned on as the landscape turned from green to gold. The town had afforded them a full replenishment of their supplies and Eva insisted on taking Alistair directly into the town healer, anxious for a second opinion on the cough that regularly rocked his body. To her dismay, the healer could reveal nothing they didn’t already know, but a new pack of herbs and potions rested in the pouch clipped to her belt and she listened intently to his breathing for any sign that they might be making an improvement.

A couple hours into the late afternoon, after her mind spent another long stretch immersed within memories of the past, she found herself seized by an uncontrollable need to have him, to reconnect, to remind herself that this was all real. She stopped Zuni in the middle of nowhere and pulled Alistair off the horse. The memories of all the painfully empty days, weeks and months, had overwhelmed her with the intense desire to pull him into her arms and embrace him. He had been holding onto her at every opportunity since they had left, and his grip never slipped, never eased in its fervor, providing comfort and reassurance that she didn’t know how to express. Somewhere, within the quagmire of her thoughts, she’d began to worry that she wasn’t returning his affections with as much ardency. She wanted him to be sure, to know without a shred of a doubt that he was loved. That he had been missed. That what they had before secrets and stupidity tore them apart had made a deep, permanent imprint on her. She wanted him to know all the other feelings inside her besides just the anger that had dominated so much of the past two years. Because there was so much more than that, so much more.

Her mind was still troubled of course, by thoughts of Keiran and Morrigan, and the inevitable moment in their future when Alistair would seek news or contact with his son again. A day would come when she would be faced with seeing Alistair and Morrigan together once more, even if only in conversation, and she hoped she’d be able to keep herself together on that day, that would be able to resist letting her emotions get the best of her. She issued a silent prayer that that day wouldn’t come anytime soon.

After standing beside the horse with Alistair in her arms, she pulled back enough that she could look into his face. She needed to remind herself yet again that he was really there, that the events of the past several days hadn’t all been a dream. She caressed his cheek while taking him in as fully as she was able, running the pad of her thumb along the outlines of his full lips, feeling the gentle golden stubble that coated his square chin, including the little spot just under his lip where the stubble naturally grew at its thickest. She wanted to drink him in, visually, emotionally, physically. His expressive eyebrows communicated all the thoughts that flitted through his mind as he stood quietly and let her examine him. At first he looked amused, his eyes shining a gentle gold smile that matched a subtle curl of his lips. And then came the slight furrow of his brow as he wondered what exactly she was doing just standing there looking at him so quietly. What was it she was thinking about, feeling, that would make her stop the horse in the middle of nowhere in order to pull him down to her? And on the heels of his silent wonderment came the dawning of a sad seriousness, and the reciprocating of her explorations. It had been real, all of it. Not some feverish dream that she kept fearing she would wake from. She watched the pinpricks of his pupils blow open, widening to take in as much of her as possible, seeming to need the same reminder, the same urgent hunger for reconnection.

His hands found her waist and one ran heavily up to her face, cupping her jaw and threading through her hair. She drew her own touch down his chin to the velvety skin of his neck, sliding gently over the firm adams apple and to the small curls of golden hair that dotted the taut flesh under his collar.

“Alistair,” she breathed, needing to hear his name on her lips knowing it was no longer just the result of a fantasy of longing, spoken aloud to an empty room. “Alistair,” she said again, clutching him to her fiercely, his body moving in close enough that the details of his face became a blur, that his nose bumped hers and the call of his lips became irresistible.

Without warning he crushed his mouth to hers, his body overtaken with a need so great that his hands shook as they pulled on her, wrapping around the narrow of her waist and then palming hard up her spine to press between her shoulder blades. She felt herself go loose under his touch, giving herself gratefully over to his pulling. She continued to fear that he was drawing on an empty well of strength and energy, his body still thoroughly ravaged by the harshness of their lost two years. But he seemed to harbor no such fears, his grip remaining firm and strong.

His kiss went as deep as it ever had, his mouth all but making love to her as tortured moans escaped his throat. Somehow her hands found their way under his clothes, running along the lean narrow waist and gripping onto the solid notches of his hips. She felt her heart begin to race, her thighs parting to welcome him as close as possible into the pooling heat between them. She gasped for air between mouthfuls of his lips, his hungry mouth and hands teasing a long, aching growl out of her.

She tried to pull away, tried to calm the both of them. The sooner they got to camp, the sooner she could pull his clothes off and give him a sound dose of her undivided attention. But he resisted her attempts to separate, tightening his grip and groaning in response.

“Please,” he gasped. “Please, Eva…”

The need saturating his voice sent ripples straight through her, teasing away any desire to draw back and remount the horse to continue their journey. When finally the firm bulge in his breeches pressed into the sweet spot between her legs, she resolved to give him whatever he needed, regardless of where they were or how exposed their position.

She slipped down to her knees and pulled at the ties of his breeches, unleashing his throbbing hardness and taking it into her mouth with a sigh. He moaned loudly and tangled his fingers in her hair. She closed her eyes and savored the earthy taste of him, of his smooth, velveteen skin and the way each movement of her tongue and mouth registered with a tortured whimper. She let his sounds guide her movements, adjusting her speed and intensity with what elicited the loudest effect, and she felt herself so aroused that she released a hand from him, allowing it to travel down her own body and find its way into her own breeches. She teased herself to a height of pleasure that she hoped matched his, but a discordant gasp caught her attention. Her eyes had barely opened before she found herself brought swiftly to the ground, his body descending upon hers as hungry hands ripped at her clothes. She met his gaze, seeing his eyes black with desire. He had seen her pleasuring herself as she sucked on him, and within moments he was pushing himself into her, sending a peal of almost unbearable pleasure resounding powerfully through her.

It was the middle of the day and the only other eyes around belonged to those of the prairie birds, but even they burst into flight as the cries of need and ecstasy rose sharply in volume. Despite the furious bucking and thrusting that pounded her into the ground, Eva registered no discomfort from the dust and clumps of greenery that embedded itself into her exposed flesh. She had not intended this, but the need to be closer to him, to see him had simply been too overpowering. Her love. Her Alistair. Losing him had been the realization of her greatest, deepest fear. She had already lost so much over the years. Her family, her home, almost every one she had ever known before her life as a Grey Warden, had all been destroyed by the blight. She’d had nothing left.

 

Back before they finally came together, before he finally kissed her, she’d started to fear that her attraction to him had been for that very reason. Wouldn’t it be a natural progression? A girl who loses everyone she ever loved, and then endures trials and hardships at the side of a man who himself had nothing, of course an intense attachment would develop. And it wouldn’t really matter who that man was — it could have been anyone.

But there was also the others… Morrigan, Leliana, Sten, Oghren and eventually Zevran. Sure they all became friends, if a little antagonistic at times, but she hadn’t felt anything for them that came close to the comfort, the feeling of home that was Alistair.

 

They lay in the dust, the sun beating down on them as their bodies descended back to the terrestrial plane. Finally he rolled off of her and helped her up, smoothing her hair and helping to brush the dirt and clinging bits of greenery from her clothes. They gravitated back into each other, finishing their little pit stop with what was meant to be one last kiss, but which turned into just one more, and then another. She smiled into the soft whisper of his lips, feeling light again. If her goal had been to feel him, to connect with him, that had been accomplished in spades.

“Sorry,” she said as she blushed.

He looked at her incredulously for a moment. “Sorry!? You’re sorry for _that_?" he laughed, "For pulling me off the horse and ravishing me in the middle of nowhere? And why, pray tell, would you ever be sorry for that?”

“Well… no. I don’t know, I just. I need to tell you how happy I am to have you back Alistair. I hope you know that. I hope you know that, no matter what has happened, I never want to spend another second of my life without you.”

“Oh, so you’re apologizing for restoring all my life’s hope and dreams?” he chuckled, squeezing her close. “Yes, that makes more sense. You should definitely feel badly about that. You monster, you.”

She laughed again and swatted gently at his chest.

“Well I shouldn’t need say that I too am happy to have you back. Surely that is well established by now, yes?” he said as his amber eyes warmed and he looked deeply into her. “I hope so at any rate. But if there is any question, let it be known my dear: I never want to spend another second of my life without you either.”

She smiled again and pulled him toward the horse, straightening up her clothing and giving Zuni an appreciative pat on the neck.

“And for future reference,” he continued, “please feel free to accost me like that anytime you want. I don’t care where we are. We could be kneeling at the feet of bloody Queen Anora herself, surrounded by all the uptight nobles of Ferelden, and I’d still happily give you a proper shagging on the spot.”

“Would you now?” she asked with a smile.

“Without a moment’s hesitation.”

She laughed again, “I’m going to hold you to that.”

“Please do.”

Soon she was relaxed into his chest again as his chin rested on her shoulder and the clomp of horse hooves took them deeper and deeper into the bannorn.

 

It was her third time making the arduous trek across the great plains of Ferelden. The bannorn was infamous for the ruthless stretches of nothingness that lay between the established Bann estates, and even the worst characters that Thedas had to offer avoided traversing too deeply into certain parts. Many of the smaller inroads were closed to through travel, and the banns kept a number of well trained guards at hand, a result of generations of neighborly feuding. It had only gotten worse post-Blight, when so many families had lost important members to the chaos, and had started scrambling to to find a new order of dominance. Avoiding run ins meant keeping to tracts of wilderness that lined the estates, but even there it was easy to get lost, or unknowingly trespass onto a suspicious landowner’s field and find yourself the target of a rain of arrows. She’d heard numerous stories about merchants and travelers who’d been detained for weeks by a fearful bann’s overzealous guards.

But Eva excelled at navigation, having made a point of learning maps of the stars, and to read the seasonal setting of the sun. Discerning East from West was easy to most, but in the depths of the November haze or the April storms when the sun was but a vague, indistinguishable presence, and set several degrees outside of its normal track to boot, East and West spanned an intimidatingly wide range. Emerging from the bannorn without complications depended heavily upon staying on just the right path and avoiding the most troublesome areas.

 

Her first time in, she wasn’t even aware of where she was. Not until the second day that she had allowed her horse to stumble of its will, carrying her well beyond the bannorn borders. It was only a month from the discovery of Alistair and Morrigan, but somehow the betrayal felt both as fresh as could be, and impossibly old and constant. The loss of Alistair was a physical ache in her stomach that she could practically trace the boundaries of with her fingers. A mere month without him, a month of replaying the scene in the garden behind the hut in her mind over and over, and she felt as though she had aged a decade.

She’d found herself wandering aimlessly, knowing somewhere in the back of her mind that it was foolish to delve too deeply into the hornet’s nest that was the post-Blight bannorn, but unable to fully care much about the danger. She’d been lucky and made it out unscathed. She’d been lucky many more times since then, but she knew she couldn’t afford to rely on luck alone. There had to be a threshold for such things, and she should have long crossed hers. The second and third time, she’d stayed on alert and made notes of the least populated trails and backroads. As the years went on, the feuding within the bannorn had stabilized somewhat, but there were still several notoriously trigger happy guard contingents that she knew to be careful of. Their ‘attack first, ask questions later’ policy might have kept their valuables safe from raiding during the blight, but it had also victimized a number of innocent travelers since then.

 

“I think I have cousins around here somewhere,” Alistair observed as they trotted peacefully down an empty backroad. “Second or third cousins or something like that. A nasty little pair of twins who used to hide the Arl's favorite pauldron and then tell our Nan they saw me running off with it. I got so many raps across the knuckles because of them. Nan knew how to leave the biggest, blackest bruises… it’d hurt for weeks.”

“That’s terrible!” she said as she closed her hand over his, rubbing mindlessly as his knuckles. “Wait, what’s a pauldron?”

“You know, those fluffy… shawl things that you drape over your shoulders.”

“Oh. Of course. The fluffy shawl things,” she responded in a teasing deadpan. Oddly, the description was effective. ”Those little twats.”

“Exactly. I’ll bet they’re still little terrors. We should find them and run off with their pauldrons,” Alistair mused, “And maybe all their pants.”

“That’ll teach ‘em,” she said.

“If they learn from experience how inconvenient it can be not to have your shawl thingy when you need it then they’ll think twice the next time they take someone elses, won’t they?” he said. “Also, pants.”

Eva laughed softly, “and no other innocent little boys when get their knuckles rapped on by Nan.”

“That’s right, just think of all the poor little boys and their sore knuckles.”

“You’d be correcting one of Ferelden’s great injustices,” Eva added teasingly, “Bards everywhere would write songs about you.”

“And you know, it’s about time,” he mused, “I thought for sure I’d have at least four or five songs about me by now.”

“Yet another great injustice.”

“See? Two birds, one stone.”

“You’re so very efficient!” she teased as she pulled out a skin of water and took a deep drink. “Alright, so it’s decided then. Now exactly where do we find these mongrels?”

“Oh how sweet!” he laughed. “You remembered that my family was actually a pack of wild dogs!”

Eva smiled at the memory. It had been just a silly joke, but it’d been one of their earliest conversations, back when she was beginning to feel that first blush of infatuation that would blossom into love.

“Do wild dogs wear pauldrons?” she asked.

“These ones do apparently. Peculiar beasts, them.”

“Well,” she let out a serious sigh. “That explains quite a lot about you.”

Alistair let out a little snort and tightened his arms around her waist, resting his chin back upon her shoulder. He was just tall enough to be able to wrap himself around her from behind and still see easily. She felt cocooned by him, grateful to be able to keep such close contact during their long hours of travel.

“I like being the big spoon on a horse,” he sighed contentedly.

Eva laughed again, “Now there’s a sentence you don’t hear every day. But yes, I like it too. Did we never ride the same horse before?”

“Nope, always had our own. If only we had known!”

“Well it’s no surprise really that it’s worked out so comfortably. We fit together so well everywhere else,” she said.

“That _is_ true…” he said flirtatiously, dragging the words out with a playful little growl as he nuzzled against the skin of her neck. The sensation sent a happy shiver down her back, and she realized her cheeks were aching with the force of her smile.

 

Camp was set up under a dense cover of trees, and as soon as the chill of night crept into the air, the rattle in Alistair’s lungs became much more noticeable. They got their fire going and Alistair pulled out their provisions, ravenously devouring his portion almost immediately while Eva boiled some water for tea. Her own appetite was raging, and at the first opportunity she joined him, finding with disappointment that her food was gone almost before she’d even tasted it.

The Grey Warden appetite was brutal. She realized what a testament it was to their pain that they’d both ignored it for so long during their separation. Alistair especially, who used to practically beg like a dog any time anyone around him had food and he didn’t. It had been a part of their joke.

She pulled his next dose of potions and herbs from the pouch and handed it to him to take, then removed her boots and coat, shedding all constraining clothing until she was left in just a simple tunic and some loose breeches, then joined Alistair on the ground again with a blanket in hand. She stretched out her legs and neck, pulling knots from her muscles caused by the day’s jostling about on the horse. Soon she was leaned back against Alistair’s chest again, the blanket wrapped around both of them as she looked into the fire.

 

“I can’t wait to be settled somewhere together. Find our own little place,” she said as she passed him the fresh full goblet of wine.

“I don’t know, I kind of like this.” He pressed a kiss to her neck.

“Well sure. This is nice…it reminds me so much of our first months together,” she agreed.

“Me too. It’s strange though, right? That we actually remember the fifth blight fondly?” he asked.

“Yes, definitely strange,” she agreed. “You did ask me then if I would miss it and at the time I thought you were a little crazy. Extremely adorable, but definitely a little crazy. But you were right.”

“I’m sorry, what was that? I didn’t quite hear that last part,” he teased.

“Yeah, yeah,” she laughed, waving him off. “I do miss parts of it. The excitement of first love. Fighting side by side. And it’s nice to have such a well defined purpose. But I would rather not have had to…” she stopped, unable to continue for a moment as she blocked the memory from her mind.

“What?” he asked, his lilting voice soft and entreating.

“Do what we did at the end there. What you did.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Eva regretted saying them. She had been trying to avoid any reference at all to Morrigan, to the child she and him bore together. She knew he regretted the secret meetings with her, but how could he possibly regret bringing his son into this world? Especially when it had been the very thing that had saved them all? She wished she could have just stopped herself. Those words felt cruel somehow, particularly to the sweet little boy she had met several years earlier.

“I mean… nevermind. I’m sorry. You know what I mean, I hope. I know it’s not that simple any more,” she stammered, feeling his silence growing heavy behind her. “Shit. I just ruined that whole moment didn’t I?”

He squeezed her close again, and she felt the brush of his lips against the side of her neck. “I know what you mean, love.”

She turned her head back to seek a kiss and was rewarded immediately with the press of his soft lips. She felt the last of the tension drain out of her muscles as she melted back into him, nibbling gently at his pouty lower lip, tasting wine and herbs on his tongue. Their teeth clinked together briefly as the kiss grew more passionate despite the awkward positioning. She was groaning when it ended, an exhalation of comfort and pleasure. That it was by a fire and so reminiscent of some of their first kisses only made it sweeter.

 

The night of their first kiss was as vivid in her mind as if it had happened yesterday. There’d been kisses with two others before him, but she hadn’t felt anything with them like she had when Alistair first confessed he’d come to care for her. He’d outright asked if she thought she might ever feel the same way, in a sweet little speech that sounded endearingly rehearsed. It took all her effort not to profess her undying love right then, not wanting to seem overeager and make him rethink his confession. When he finally, _finally_ pulled her in and brought his face close, his hand was trembling noticeably against her cheek, his eyes glinting in the firelight and his breath smelled of mint — another sign to her that the whole thing had been planned.

But the kiss itself had been a little clumsy. She’d banged up against his armor, having to hold herself out so that the pieces didn’t dig uncomfortably into her arms and chest. That very armor also seemed to make it awkward for him to stoop down to her face level, and he shifted on his feet several times as their lips were joined, trying to get himself into a better position. She hadn’t been able to stop herself from smiling uncontrollably, making it difficult for her to rein her lips in. The result was not the deep kiss she’d been fantasizing about for weeks by then. But afterward, the memory of the kiss had been all the more precious precisely because of those little things that had made it so imperfect, so real.

He hadn’t seemed disappointed in their first real act of affection, but once the fire had been put out and everyone was preparing to retire to their tents, she decided she wanted another shot at it, a chance to hopefully do it better, more like the kiss she had been envisioning. So she’d been on watch for an opportunity to steal him away. After he’d removed much of the upper pieces of his armor and was standing before the entrance to his tent in just a light tunic and his breeches, she’d approached him quietly from behind and picked up his hand. He gave her a charming, crooked little smile, his eyes and skin enticingly golden in the low light of the dying fire, and she pulled him into the trees just beyond camp.

That time she’d been able to slide her hands up his chest, feeling the heat warming the thin linen tunic and the strong thumping of his heart beneath her palms. She’d raised herself on tiptoes and found his mouth in the dark, and he let out a surprised little gasp at how fervently she went in for their second kiss. The arms that closed around her were strong and eager and his mouth had no longer tasted of mint, but of wine and mutton stew. But finally she had the presence of mind to really give him the kiss she had wanted to. If he’d had any uncertainty about her feelings for him, despite her fumbled responses during his little speech, she hoped that she had put them to rest.

It was only the second kiss of his life according to him, the first one having happened on an hour or so before, and she could tell that he was just trying to figure it out as they went. He copied the little things she did, such as suckle gently on each lip, sliding his tongue around to explore her mouth, tilting his head and opening his mouth to drive more and more deeper. She knew he had large hands, but they felt even larger as they cupped her head gently, sliding into her hair and bracing her against the deepening of his kisses. The movements of his mouth rippled through her whole body, awakening parts of her that she seemed to be feeling for the first time. 

They’d kissed there in the dark for a long time. Simply kissed and nothing more, both of them seeming too nervous and inexperienced to branch beyond the meeting of their mouths and holding each other close.

She sighed at the memory. It was a memory she’d drowned out with liquor for two years, and now it finally felt safe to revisit it again.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked tiredly as he nuzzled into her hair. She closed her eyes and savored the feeling of his lips against her neck, the playful lilt of his crackling voice.

“Everything,” she breathed.

“Oh? Well that’s quite a lot of stuff to have on your mind.”

She laughed softly. “I’m thinking about the usual stuff actually.”

“And what is the usual stuff?”

“You. Us. How much I love you,” she answered. “What are you thinking about?”

“Also the usual. Us. Cheese. Your butt. How much I love you.”

Eva snorted. “My butt?”

“Absolutely. I’m surprised that you’re surprised. Have I told you lately how cute it is?” he asked as he slid a hand down to give her an affectionate little squeeze. “Actually cute isn’t quite the right word is it? It’s closer to… tantalizing? Maybe sublime. Or spleeendiiiid,” he said, drawing the word out playfully. It was a relief that that shell of a man she'd come upon in the tavern hadn't actually lost all that had made him _him._ In the days together they'd somehow reconnected with the those pieces of their past selves that were able to joke, to tease. It had been so long since she'd felt such ease, such a tendency toward laughter. Could it really be this easy to heal all their old wounds?

“Ooh, no paradisiacal. Yes, that’s the one. That last one.”

She laughed again, “Paradisiacal? Now you’re reaching.”

“I assure you I am not my lady. No true paradise could exist without your butt. And your lips,” he said as he tilted her face back for another kiss. “And your laughter. We are in paradise right now in fact. Haven’t you noticed?”

“I have actually,” she said, and she realized her cheeks were aching again. “Except there’s no cheese here.”

“Not quite a dealbreaker,” he joked softly. “But close.”

He moved to sit up straight, and Eva noticed for the first time that he seemed to be sweating.

“Am I overheating you?” she asked, pulling away to look into his face. Despite his grin, he seemed flushed, his eyes slightly dulled.

“I don’t think it’s you, love. But… I do think it might be time for me to go lay down. Like, really lay down. I’m feeling a little…”

“A little what?” A spark of concern ignited in her gut.

“Lightheaded. I’m sure I’ll be fine. It’s probably just the new potions and herbs. Probably after a good night’s sleep I’ll be good as new,” he reassured her.

Eva rose, turning to take his hands and help him up. He wrapped his arms around her for a moment, his body feeling blazingly warm, and she pressed into his chest, taking a deep breath of his woodsy scent. After he staggered tiredly to the tent and she helped him get comfortable inside, she lay a kiss on his forehead and left him to tidy up their camp, preparing them for an early morning’s start. With any luck, they should approach South Reach by tomorrow evening, and then could spend the next night in a real bed. Perhaps she could even rent them a proper bath.

Mostly she just looked forward to getting her payout and then being free to find a place to tuck in with Alistair for a long season’s rest. She hoped they could find a little rental property somewhere, preferably on the outskirts of a small town. Where they could take it easy, live a simple life. Maybe they would stay clear through the next winter, to give him plenty of time to finish recovering. He was good at acting like he was well, but she could see how easily he tired, how quickly he came down with the shakes when he hadn’t had enough wine. He needed more real food, and better nights of sleep than what they got on the hard ground at camp. For a moment she felt guilty for their romp in the dirt earlier that day. He should be saving his strength, at least until he built up more of it, not expending it all on her.

But she recalled the need in his voice as he had begged her to continue. “Please, Eva…” Refusing him was practically impossible when he said her name like that. She felt a delicious shudder travel through her at the memory. Even in his weakened state, he could set her body on fire.

 

When she finally crawled into the tent herself, the little spark of concern flared into a loud nagging voice in the back of her mind. He was sleeping heavily, not even stirring when she tripped a little and accidentally fell onto his leg. And he was feverish, his forehead slick with sweat. She pulled the blankets back off him to try to allow him to cool off, and pulled a cloth from her pack to dampen it with water from her canteen, laying it over his forehead. As much as she wanted to cuddle up against him, she kept herself at a distance, not wanting to overheat him even further. Not knowing what else she could do besides let him hopefully sleep it off, she laid her hand over his chest so that at the very least she could feel the rise and fall of his breathing, and she settled down to try to get her own night’s sleep.

 

She awoke with a start as the first glow of light crept into their tent and immediately felt like something was wrong. She sat bolt upright with her heart racing and her first impulse was to listen for the sounds of invaders in their camp. But it quickly became apparent that that was not what had woken her. She turned to Alistair. Had he coughed perhaps? One of his really nasty sounding ones? She had no memory of it, and no idea what it was specifically that had caused her to wake. But as she looked closer at Alistair, a feeling of dread began to crawl sickeningly through her. She hoped it was only the blue light of early morning, but the skin of his face looked almost grey and ashen. And he had not moved a muscle in his sleep. He was normally a side sleeper, seeking her out and sliding up against her at every opportunity, but he was still lying neatly on his back, and his breaths were coming shallow and fast.

 

Crawling gingerly over him, she hovered her face over his and studied him as well as she could within the dim morning light. He definitely looked especially pale, and his forehead was no longer hot, but felt cold and clammy. She pulled the blanket back up to his chest, hoping he hadn’t been cold all night. But if so, wouldn’t that have woken him enough to pull the blankets up himself?

She resisted the urge to shake him, something in her wanting just to check that he was okay. To have him open his eyes and tell her that he was fine. But she was also afraid to disturb his rest. They would be leaving soon anyway, and he would need to have his strength if they were going to make it the rest of the way across the bannorn that day.

 

When she determined that the sun was close to breaching the horizon, she sat up again and gave him a shake, calling his name sweetly into his ear.

“Wake up my love,” she cooed as she pushed strands of his hair away from his face.

No response, not even a flinch.

She shook him a bit harder and felt sick when his only movement was his head rolling off to the side. She tried to press down the fear that was building in her abdomen. She knew something hadn’t felt right when she woke, but she didn’t know what. What more could she have done for him? What was even wrong?

“Alistair!” she called more sharply and she rolled his head back, patting his cheek and lifting his eyelids, still getting nothing back from him.

She grabbed his hand and tried to pull him up into a sitting position, but his body was entirely limp, unmoving dead weight.

Panic was rising within her, fast and hard. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Eva paced nervously through camp. The sun was fully up now and they should have been on their way long ago, but Alistair still hadn’t moved. The panic that filled her chest left little room for air, and she gasped as she struggled to regulate her anxious breathing, her mind racing through any possible option for action and coming up short. She was no mage and could not heal, and she’d already emptied a health potion into his mouth with no noticeable effect. Her strength had always been in the arts of stealth and speed, not sheer physical power, and there was no way she could lift him up to put him on horseback and try to take him to someone who could help. And she could not leave him behind by himself, unconscious and vulnerable. What if raiders attacked the camp while she was gone? Or wolves? What if she was captured herself and was unable to return, leaving him to wither away, or wake up alone and confused?

The only thing that seemed like an option at all was simply to wait. Wait, and hope he woke, or hope that someone stumbled upon them who wouldn’t just try to kill them both.

But waiting was agony. It had only been an hour since the sun fully cleared the horizon, but it felt like so much more than that. She’d worn a path in the dirt as she trekked repeatedly from the tent to Zuni, to the campfire and back to the tent. She’d secured the flaps wide open so that fresh air could circulate within, and opened up his tunic to apply the damp cloth to his chest, knowing that the temperature was likely to rise to uncomfortable levels at some point during the day. Sitting beside him and just looking down into his unresponsive face was a torture of its own. She needed to _do_ something, but she was already exhausting what few tools existed in her arsenal. She alternated her pacing with sitting, with talking to him, begging him to wake. At one point she pulled on his tunic, wrenching herself under his shoulders and hoisting him into her arms so she could cradle him as she spoke.

“Alistair, love, you must wake up,” she cried. “Please. What is wrong? Why is this happening?”

But he only slept peacefully.

How many times had she sat in a tent and watched him sleep during the blight? She’d often wait to wake him some mornings as the light crept slowly into their tent, unveiling the handsome angles and planes of his face, his neck, his bare shoulders. She could seldom admire him properly when they were out in the daylight, at least not if she didn’t want to hear some groan or derisive remark about it from Morrigan. And out there he was mostly hidden under bulky metal armor anyway. But in the privacy of the early morning hours in their tent, she could let her eyes linger freely over his strong neck and that expressive face that she’d adored almost from the moment they had met back in Ostagar. She’d trace the sculpted lines of his chest, the firm roundness of his impossibly strong arms and shoulders. She’d drink in that vast expanse of golden skin that she came to crave with every fiber of her being, the flesh that was so hot and soft as it exhausted her deep into the late night hours, and then wrapped around her like a blanket until morning came.

Just as they’d learned to kiss together, they’d also eventually learned the preferences and mechanics of each other’s bodies together, stumbling against each other in the dark, trying to keep their voices hushed despite experiencing new sensations and delights that made them both want to scream to the heavens. Maker, that first night they’d spent fully together, after yet another of his adorable speeches, was emblazoned permanently into her memory for its dizzying variety of emotions. They’d both started out so nervous, so tentative and cautious, and it had been downright awkward at points. But it had blossomed into something sweeter than anything she could have imagined.

Even after all the hours they’d spent kissing, after how much bolder they’d gotten in their affections, coming to press their bodies fully together as they hid among the trees, they still seemed to have no idea where to begin, or what to do when it came to the actual mechanics of making love for the first time. His speech, as sweet and irresistible as it was, had put just enough pressure on them both to turn them back into fumbling strangers. They stood in the tent removing their armor and leathers, stripping shyly down to bare skin without touching, and then just hovering awkwardly for a moment, neither quite knowing their next move. His eyes traveled up and down her body, going black and glassy as they lingered over her curves, and she saw the rising and falling of his chest increase in speed, the same as hers. But whether it was excitement or just nerves wasn’t terribly clear at first. She’d seen a naked man before, once when she accidentally came upon a man bathing in a pond. But that man did not have the rather large — and increasingly larger — appendage sticking proudly out of a nest of copper curls such as what she saw on Alistair. That other man just had a patch of soft, dangling flesh that looked nothing at all like this. It made her heart jump into her throat as she looked at it. That giant thing was supposed to go _in_  her?

The nerves that sparked at the thought were joined with something else, a warmth that filled her belly, moistening that aching spot at the apex of her thighs. If there had ever been any doubt that Alistair was no boy, but was fully a man, that doubt was now completely destroyed.

She supposed they should probably kiss. They’d gotten really good at kissing, and when she’d press herself against him it seemed their bodies would take on a mind of their own, urging them to touch, to sigh, to caress without any need for thought or external direction. Eva regularly felt the bulge in his pants as their bodies would grind together in the dark, but neither of them ever spoke about it, and she never reached a hand down to touch it, even when Alistair would moan softly as it pressed into her. Despite her fear, her nerves, her knees that felt like jelly and a mouth as dry as the desert, she too wanted it, wanted him. She had never wanted anything in her life as much as she wanted him.

“Maker’s breath but you are beautiful,” he sighed, the first words spoken since she’d sheepishly nodded her assent to his proposition. With shaky legs she took a step closer to him, bringing herself in for a kiss. Everything else should follow from there, right? Kissing they could do.

The welcoming softness of his lips, the familiar patterns of his tongue sliding against hers put her at ease quickly, and without meaning to, her hand had brushed up against that protruding appendage, it being at perfect hand level as she inched closer and closer. The suckling and nibbling of his mouth increased in force with the addition of her touch, his breath coming fast and heavy through his nose. She swallowed hard and decided to just go for it, letting her hand do more than just brush against that piece of him, his _cock_ , and she let herself feel it, experiencing the glide of the smooth, velveteen skin, wrapping her hand fully around its twitching girth and testing its firmness. He whined into her mouth as his hips bucked forward into her hand, and soon his hands too were on her, palms dragging hot across her back. They were already familiar with the basic landscape of each other’s bodies, but with no clothing in the way everything seemed different, brand new. He groaned quietly, panting and writhing in place as he explored her fully exposed skin for the first time. His calloused hands gently scored across the unexpectedly sensitive skin at her waist, sliding tentatively around to her belly, up her ribs, coming up to cup the soft heft of an exposed breast. When his thumb lightly caressed over the hardening point of her nipple, she physically shuddered at the sensation and let out quiet cry of her own, a desperate sound that only seemed to enhance his own arousal. Her legs had gotten shakier by the minute as a powerful desire radiated outward from between them, pulsing and throbbing. Finally his hand on her waist pulled her forward so that she was flush against him, bare skin blazing hot against bare skin, and their bodies remembered what to do, what they’d done so many nights now up against the trees in the dark.

She’d pulled him down on the bedroll without releasing his mouth, and she could feel his body quiver as he lowered himself gently over her, settling between her legs and squeezing harder at her breasts. She’d heard tales of overeager men, and how they’d clamber to get their cock inside a woman, finish up quickly and then be done with it, but Alistair was acting nothing at all like those tales she’d heard. He seemed too nervous to even know where to start. He was holding his hips away from her, seeming to want some sort of invitation, some sort of sign from Eva that she was ready. And she was. She was a little frightened, scared that it might hurt, scared that it might be too big and wouldn’t fit, but she wanted it anyway. She wanted him. So she gave the invitation that he needed, wrapping a leg around his hip and pulling him forward, clutching at his broad back and urging him closer, feeling a little surprised at her own eagerness.

She found his cock with her hand again and squeezed, angling it toward her sex until the head was sliding up and down the slickness collected there, and almost instantly he was moaning, keening in her mouth while the grip of his hands on her flesh grew tighter and his hips pulsed gently toward her, seeking a slow, gentle entrance.

He braced himself against the ground and watched her face with wild, black eyes and she felt herself gloriously stretched and filled, merging completely with him, with this man who it seemed could never be close enough to her to satisfy. Finally he was as close as he could possibly get, and it did hurt, but the pain blended with something else, an exciting stimulation that made her heart and breath quicken, that promised the culmination of a pleasure that their times clutching each other in the dark always hinted at, but never fully delivered.

“Oh, Maker,” Alistair whispered rapturously as he pressed on, burying himself to the hilt with a sharp intake of breath. He rested there for a moment, cautious of her jagged breathing, of the little twitches of discomfort that made her yelp quietly, but she kept her hands tight around his hips, holding him into place as she let her inner walls relax and adjust to him.

When she pulled his mouth to hers and they began to rock together, she felt almost like she could cry. But they wouldn’t be sad tears. She wasn’t even sure they’d be happy tears. Just tears of being so full, so electrified by a sensation that was so new, so perfect, so intense that she wasn’t sure how her body was containing it all. It needed to come out somehow, but yet she had to be quiet. She didn’t want the other tents to hear them.

It was over quickly. The pain had morphed into something new and mysterious, but there hadn’t been the time to follow it all the way to its endpoint, even though the journey was breathtaking. He apologized quietly while asking if she was okay, and she could only pant and nod and keep kissing him. She didn’t ever want to stop kissing him, ever want to stop holding him or making love to him. He stayed inside her as he rested, as his breaths slowed and their tongues danced together, darting in and out of the other’s mouth, languishing in familiar, warm, ticklish places. She wanted him to keep going, and even as he lay soft inside her, she gyrated her hips around him, still feeling the call to something more, to a greater height of stimulation than what had already almost overwhelmed her.

Eventually, he felt firm between her legs again, and he began thrusting fully once more, starting their journey to the heights of pleasure again. But now her body was warm and loose, now the small bites of pain from deep within were but a memory, and now she let go and fully immersed herself in the blissful, ecstatic experience of him.

If there was anything the other campers heard, it was likely the repeated professions of love that sounded off throughout the night. It was almost a compulsion, tumbling again and again from occupied mouths as the hours wore on and their bodies grew more comfortable. She couldn’t stop saying it because she couldn’t stop feeling it. “I love you Alistair. Maker’s Breath, I love you so much.” And there was no question that he was feeling it too.

 

The next day they were both worthless, their bodies and minds exhausted from that bittersweet combination of a full night’s worth of strenuous lovemaking coupled with a complete lack of much needed sleep. And though they’d been on the receiving end of numerous annoyed glances from the rest of the party, it was hard to care. They traded yawns back and forth, grinning giddily to each other as they walked along. And when camp was made again that night, they didn’t even bother with the pretense of setting up two separate tents. They’d never used that second tent again, and Alistair had eventually “forgotten” it somewhere outside of Orzammar.

 

 

Eva was snapped out of the spell of memory when she thought she heard the rhythmic crunching of footsteps, the whisper of moving leaves and branches. She dropped Alistair’s hand and stood, resting one hand on a dagger and one hand on the pouch that held her smoke bombs and exited the tent, sprinting silently to hide in a column of shadow made by a large tree. She opened her mind wide and listened, and sure enough the crunching sound grew closer even as it grew quieter; a move that betrayed questionable intentions. People not looking for trouble don’t try to sneak up on other people’s camps, that was something anyone who traveled these lands knew. It had been inevitable that someone else would come across this site of course, but she had expected to be long gone by then.

Darting from shadow to shadow, she made a wide circle that came around to flank the maker of the noise, and eventually saw a figure crouching behind a bush, peering through branches and leaves at the camp. It was a disheveled looking man, with stringy, greasy hair and the grime blackened leathers that were commonly seen on the vultures of the countryside. But he was not fondling the hilt of his blade like a man contemplating violence. He was doing nothing in that moment other than watching, scoping out the site. Eva stayed stock still as the man eventually stood and began to back away, but she could tell by the smirk on his lips that he was not finished.

Without a sound she trailed him as he made his way through the woods, climbing carefully over tree roots and brush, picking his way back to the road that she knew lay close ahead. When the cleared gravel path that served as a road became visible through the trees he picked up his pace, eschewing all attempts at stealth, as pathetic as they had been, as he joined what looked to be a horse-drawn cart and at least one other ragged looking man. She silently advanced, coming to a stop behind a bush that was the only thing separating her from the road.

“Aye, ain’t noone there,” said the man to the other.

“A shame, that. Wherever they are they probably has their best loot on them,” responded the other. “Probably out huntin’ or somethin'.”

“Well we’ll just wait ‘em out. They hafta return sometime.”

“Could ye tell how many there is?”

“There’s just the one tent, one horse. Not much stuff.”

“Eeeeeasy pickin’s,” one man laughed. “I hope it’s a lady. Haven’t had any time with a lady in weeks now.”

“Aye. Not too smart to be a lady travelin’ alone in these parts, but it wouldn’t be the first time. Try not to ruin her ‘fore it’s my turn, eh?”

Eva sighed. A little part of her was hoping that they might be reasonable folk, someone she could just approach and ask for help. Clearly that was not the case. As she eyed the cart, she began to formulate a bit of a plan, something that offered a glimmer of hope for Alistair. Once she was free of these scum…

Her smoke bomb hit its mark with the usual precision, sending up a thick grey cloud that obscured everything within range almost immediately. The first man was still in the middle of uttering his first cry of alarm when her dagger met his throat, dispatching the life from his body with a sickening gurgle. The second man had fallen to the ground as those familiar with smoke bombs tend to do, looking for the shadows of feet cast below the rising cloud. She sighed again as she pulled her leading dagger out of his back, inspecting the tip of the blade for damage from the gravel at the exit point of the new hole in his chest. It was over in a flash, and she tapped her foot as she waited impatiently for the rest of the smoke to clear so she could get a better handle on her new mode of transportation.

She walked around the cart and nodded. The horse was prancing in place, clearly uncomfortable with the flurry of activity that had just occurred. She placed a calming hand on his nose, and spoke softly to him. The poor thing was painfully thin, and tellingly skittish. She murmured soothingly as she stroked his muzzle, until eventually he seemed to stand a bit easier, and then she carefully secured his lead to a nearby tree.

 

Her heart was racing when she made it back to camp. She was afraid and nervous and relieved: finally, something she could _do!_ She wasn’t sure how the plan would work, but it was all she had and she’d execute it to the best of her ability, even if it ended up a complete failure. Looking around their meager belongings, she realized sadly that she was going to have to sacrifice the tent. There was simply no other material in enough quantity to make some sort of sled for Alistair. And since he was already in it, that solved the problem of trying to move his gaunt but still weighty body onto something else. She pulled her dagger out again and began slicing through the upper reaches of the tent, turning the canvas dome into several free floating strips of fabric.

It took some time, and quite a bit of muscle, before she finally had the fabric laid out around him, tucked under his body so that there were several layers between him and the ground, with makeshift straps securing him safely within his new canvas sled. A rope wound around a thick, sturdy branch shored up the front, anchoring the tether that would next be attached to Zuni, whose strength would pull his body toward the road, and up a makeshift ramp to the bed of the wagon. This would work, it would _have_ to work. And if it didn’t…. Then she would figure something else out. She simply had to find a way to get help for Alistair.

The sun was high in the sky, the temperature soaring to its zenith as each cloud gasped a dying breath, dissipating under the burning ball of fire high overhead. She was sweating profusely, and she knew that even without the push of physical exertion, he had to be sweating as well. He was finally secured into the back of the cart and she moved quickly to free him of the thick straps of canvas, dousing a cloth with the last few drops of water from her canteen and laying it over his chest and neck. It was deeply disturbing how ashen his skin was, even under the blazing light of the midday sun. Her heart fluttered with the remains of the panic that had overtaken her earlier, having been stamped into dormancy with her new burst of purpose and activity, but now reawakened and threatening to flare up to overwhelming proportions. She tried to swallow it down, to remind herself that she was not helpless any longer, that she was doing _something_. She would find help. With as many banns and estates peppered this land, it was extremely likely that by the end of that very day, she would be in the company of someone else who might offer them some assistance.

She hurried to secure Zuni to the cart and provide both horses with a needed drink of water, the skinny mount drinking and eating as though he hadn’t seen food or water in days. Eva dragged the bodies of the two highwaymen into the cover of the forest, and kicked gravel over the wide stains of blood that marred the road, and then she climbed up to the little bench, and took a deep breath. In the back of her mind was a growing tendril of icy fear. Was this all her fault? If she had never left Alistair, he would not have been thrust into such despair. He would not have mistreated his body so badly, would not have stretched the limits of his health in an attempt to blot out his pain. Whatever it was that was making him sick wouldn’t even exist if she had just stayed after she’d found him with Morrigan, if she had heard him out instead of fleeing.

Eva cast a last look back at his unmoved body. He was still so very thin, his eyes and cheeks sunken deeply into the noble frame of his face, his once beautiful golden skin now pallid and clammy. How much this man had endured in the past two years, all because of his love for her. The guilt that swelled up became a golem, sitting like stone in the base of her gut. This beautiful man had been the first to ever love her, to make love _to_ her, to touch her heart. And she wanted him to be the last. He _would_ be the last.

She swallowed down the storm of emotions and hardened her heart. If this was her fault, then she would fix it, at whatever cost. Maker help any person who dared to deny them aid. 


End file.
